


The Demons Within Us

by Squeewockle



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: An Apocalypse, Because it's SLOOOW, F/F, It's also an AU, Really really slow burn, Slow Burn, So is the sisterly bond, There may be a little angst at times, There will also be sexy times, Wynhaught is pretty cool as well, but that's like, sorry about that, there's demons, warning.jpg, way later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:42:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24020764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squeewockle/pseuds/Squeewockle
Summary: The world got a little screwy out there, beyond the Ghost River Triangle. There's demons everywhere. Last anyone heard of the outside, beyond Purgatory's gates, monsters were flooding the cities. Taking out the power. Leaving everyone in that small town in the dark about what was happening.Those in the Ghost River Triangle are safe. The villages, the towns and cities the protection encompasses has them thriving. They're shielded from the outside. As long as the Heir to the Earp curse doesn't die, and the seventy-seven revenants are killed before they figure out a way to break the protection... things should remain fine.Just fine.Waverly's prepared. She studied, got all her research, and the will to see it through. Aware of her importance, Black Badge Division arrange for a police escort for her.Someone that Waverly definitely isn't prepared for at all.
Relationships: Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught
Comments: 20
Kudos: 54





	1. Chapter 1

As the end of the world went, Waverly Earp thought the whole situation wasn’t too bad. Sure, if you stepped beyond the Ghost River Triangle to the eastern seaboard, there’d be nothing but decay, destruction, and lands ravaged by demons, monsters, zombies. Also, people practicing cannibalism, murderism, and generally acting like the hell surrounding them. But at least within Purgatory, life itself went on.

Not as vibrantly as before, not as happily as before. But it was something. The few human cities remaining were firmly ensconced within the Ghost River Triangle barrier, keeping in contact with other human cities in the world that had their own consecrated protections. This was humanity now. Pockets of survival. Trying to keep up the best they could, but knowing that at any moment, their protections might fail, the floodgates open, and their existence end.

Now, she worked at Shorty’s, a traditional western bar at the heart of Purgatory. Her aunt Gus ran it along with Shorty himself, supplying patrons with alcohol bought from the big cities, and from personal distilleries in the basement. Good hooch was hard to come by, and everyone knew Shorty’s would wrangle up something, no matter how dire the alcohol situation got. Sure, it wasn’t exactly apple picking country, so the types of drinks they supplied were hard liquors and beers, and the cheap gut rot for those pressed for cash.

Though she worked here, at the back of her mind simmered a sense of destiny. A knowledge that in the near future, she might be needed on the front lines. A knowledge that made her want to thoroughly prepare for that time. 

A gruff voice caught Waverly’s attention. “Be a dear, Waverly, and sort out those two customers over there?” Gus smiled, though it looked tired, like her eyes. The death of her husband, Curtis, weighed upon her still, months later. Waverly doubted those extra wrinkles would ever go away. She missed her uncle as well. They had been good to her, when her daddy died. Good when Wynonna left.

Gus pointed to two men sitting at a table, no drinks yet bought.

“On it!” Plastering on a smile, Waverly strode over to the table, addressing the nearest man. He seemed to be going for the old-style western fashion, with a stupid handlebar mustache, chin fluff, and a leather hat. Out in the frontier, more and more people had decided they’d rather dress up like heroes from the wild west.

Or villains. Waverly thought she recognized the look he was going for. “Nice Doc Holliday costume you got there. Real authentic.”

The man’s eyebrow twitched upward, and he touched his hat in a respectful gesture, inclining his head. “That’s the name I go by as well.”

“Really?” Must be some kind of enthusiast, then. Her thoughts flashed to the research she had piled at home. Hundreds and hundreds of pages of it, newspaper clippings, alphabetically ordered for the revenants her ancestor had popped off. The Earp curse.

Something that haunted her family for years. Something that made many Earp ancestors die before they even hit 40, due to the endless conflict between the Heirs and the revenants. Not to mention the one year wonder, Edwin Earp, who bumped off at least seventy revenants before succumbing to a gunshot wound.

She had a few of Holliday as well, including an ancient daguerreotype, but the last record anyone had of him was when he was dying of tuberculosis in 1892. No sighting of him remained since. This person looked _uncannily_ like him. “He was one of the best gunslingers Purgatory ever had, if I remember.” She grinned at his surprised expression. “Purgatory history. It’s a thing I studied. Along with languages, math… anything to take my mind off the all-hell-has-broken-loose problem outside the Ghost River Triangle.”

At least there were still online courses.

“Yes, that is a problem for some,” Doc said, smiling. He glanced at the dark-skinned man next to him, who gave an imperceptible nod. “You seem a smart lady. I’ve a question. This bar, Shorty’s, it’s part owned to the Earps, too?”

“You don’t know that?” She thought most people in Purgatory knew about the bar’s purchase by Curtis and Ward Earp. Though her dad was dead, Curtis and Gus kept the seat warm for the remaining Earps. Shorty, the original owner, pocketed the cash and still helped out with operations.

“I’m, ah, recent in this town. I come from down under.”

“Australia?”

He didn’t reply to that, instead glancing at the brass sign above the bar, embellished with black lettering. _Drink where Wyatt Earp did!_

“I’ve been meaning to speak to some of the Earps myself. Guess you can say I’m into the history part. Seeing the changes from old times to today.”

Waverly wasn’t sure if she liked the stranger – there was something _off_ about him, somehow – and a scruffy, unkempt appearance that implied he slept rough. Nevertheless, he had a smooth, confident drawl, and he was able to come into Shorty’s, so he wasn’t a revenant. They’d made sure to give Shorty’s the same protection as the Homestead. _Should I mention my heritage or not?_

Eh, if she didn’t, someone else would. Besides, she felt fairly certain that they weren’t just sitting here by happy coincidence.

“You’re in luck. I happen to be an Earp.”

“Oh?” His blue eyes now gleamed in sudden interest. “Are you the Heir?”

She started at his casual use of _Heir._ He _did_ know a lot about the Earps. Only a few in the town believed the Earp curse, and there were other things distracting them at the moment. Such as an apocalypse. That could be pretty distracting. “Too young,” she said. Six years to go, and she’d activate her lineage. She also needed to _find_ Peacemaker beforehand. That’d be nice. The revenants stayed in their trailer trash areas, mostly, waiting for their brethren to resurrect on the Heir’s 27th birthday. Her stomach tightened at the thought.

“Hmm. Is there more family of yours?”

“Yeah,” Waverly said, a lump forming in her throat. “Well... the should-be Heir, my sister Wynonna, vanished almost three years ago. Right about the time the whole world situation went balls. We were messaging a bit, but I haven’t heard from her in a while. Radio silence over there” She’d sent a message to her sister earlier: _Happy birthday!_ – even though Wynonna hadn’t responded for months. Given the state of things outside Purgatory… “So for now, it looks like it’s just going to be me,” Waverly said, not really feeling the smile. It would be her, if she didn’t get killed first.

If she died, the Earp line ended. If it ended, then the revenants could leave.

Which meant the demons from outside could flood in. Bye bye, everyone in the Ghost River Triangle. Bye bye human race.

Perhaps she shouldn’t have been too open to this stranger, who styled himself after a long dead gunslinger.

The man who called himself Doc Holliday now turned to his companion – a mountain of a man, with skin as dark as night. His eyes were the kind of eyes that drilled for information. Not someone she wanted to cross. He pulled something out of his coat pocket, and flashed a gold badge at her, tucked in a wallet. His name was displayed next to it; Xavier Dolls.

Black Badge Division.

She froze.

“If you’re the only surviving Earp, we’re going to need you to come on board with us,” Dolls said, his tone brisk. “Our division has been tasked with protecting and aiding the Heir. It’s been established that our _only_ hope,” he said, throwing the words at her like bullets, “is to ensure the Heir stays alive, and finally eliminates all the revenants in the Ghost River Triangle when they come of age.”

“Whoa, wow, isn’t that moving a little fast?” She attempted a smile, while noting out of the corner of her eye Gus watching with suspicion at the two men. If Gus thought Waverly was being harassed, she did tend to get a little gun-happy. “I mean, I haven’t even gotten you two a drink. Better keep things slow, right?”

Doc chuckled; Dolls gave a thin, unconvincing smile. “You do know about your legacy, right?”

“More than you,” she shot back, harsher than intended. She attempted to soften her words. “This is my family you’re talking about.” _Even though I’m pretty much the last remaining member of it._

“Good.”

There was a pause, which Waverly felt the need to fill. “I’m not leaving my job. I’m safe here. If you’re thinking of just locking me in a cage until I come of age… just don’t.”

“Tempting,” Dolls said with a growl, “but we won’t. We’ll just assign someone to you for protection when you’re not in consecrated ground. We’re collaborating with the sheriff’s office. They’ll send someone over for introduction, now we’ve confirmed who you are. Though the revenants have known to be lax in the past, there's no promise they won't change their ways now.”

Waverly wanted to protest, but she also knew this to be expected, somewhere down the line. To those in the know, the Earp curse was also what saved humanity from the brink of destruction. The Ghost River Triangle was one of the few sanctuaries left.

She’d prepared to be the Heir once Wynonna had vanished into a dying world, but a part of her wondered if her sister still lived, somehow. Maybe she did. Maybe she didn’t. It was why she never stopped messaging, even if Wynonna stopped replying to her messages some months prior.

No answer was worse than knowing the truth, once and for all. Still smiling, albeit nervously, she finally got an order of drinks off the two men, who both spent way too long staring at her, before turning to converse with each other in low tones.

“Everything alright?” Gus said, still glowering at the men. “They had you suckered down for a while.”

“It’s fine. Just… family business, you know how it is.”

“Hmm.” Gus kept her hands on her hips. “You be careful, young lady.”

Waverly smiled, giving Gus a hug. “Don’t worry about me.” She could take care of herself. She did feel slightly irritated that people tended to regard her as young, vulnerable. The kid Earp, always needing protection.

She could also do what Willa was meant to be. What Wynonna had been next to do. It was in her blood, after all.

She just… even Willa as a teenager had been better, faster, stronger – and Willa had been taken. All her training hadn’t saved her or daddy. Wynonna on the other hand… she’d gone off the rails. Sent to an asylum for raving about demons.

No one doubted Wynonna’s stories anymore.

Continuing serving drinks, mopping up spills from Shorty’s patrons, Waverly didn’t notice the two Black Badge men leave. And when her shift ended a few hours later, she wrapped herself up warm.

Waverly had only recently moved back to the Homestead, once she discovered that the reason revenants could enter it was because of an anti-ammolite talisman buried in the pet cemetery, above Pikachu the hamster. A talisman she herself had buried at the tender age of five. All because her “imaginary friend” said it would help her mother and father get back together again, and her sisters to love her more.

She’d caused Willa and her father to die. No matter what Wynonna had once thought, or believed herself responsible for, it wasn’t Wynonna’s fault.

Waverly never blamed her.

Oh yeah. The imaginary friend also turned out to be very real, and in charge of a lot of revenants. 

So yes. Waverly knew all about the Earp curse, the burden her family contained, and she was damned if she wasn’t going to do something about it.

She arrived at the Homestead around fifteen minutes later. She teased open the door, and spotted Champ’s coat strewn across the entrance. So Champ was here. Alrighty then. Just before calling for him, she heard noises upstairs.

Noises that sounded awfully like two people getting it on. If judging by the high and low voices mixing together, along with the rattling of a bed. Thin walls in the house.

“That little _shit!_ ” Waverly hissed. “Oh, this is not happening.” Flaring with righteous anger, she strolled straight to the gun locker, hauling out her shotgun. Whatever woman was being all touchy-feely with Champ, god help them.

Quietly creeping upstairs, she approached the bedroom where the noises came from. Wynonna’s old bedroom. The door was ajar, and she managed to get a view of the bare back of a dark haired woman, straddling the treacherous body of her boyfriend, Champ. The woman was leaning forward, as if kissing him, one hand braced against his chin.

She cocked her gun, yelled, “Get off my boyfriend!” before firing. The sound came out in a thunderous blast, the shot hitting the wall next to the bed. The woman yelped, rolling with Champ off the bed for cover. “Give me one good reason why I don’t shoot you into the next life!” Waverly said, pumping the gun. “Up!” Now the woman stood up, hands facing her in surrender, one set clutching a penknife.

Waverly’s jaw dropped. “Wynonna?”

“Waves?” The dark-haired woman attempted a smile, though she still examined the gun as if it was a dangerous animal. “Wow. Waves! It’s really you! You’ve gotten...” She paused, and gestured helplessly at her chest. “Older!”

 _I just shot at my sister._ Conflicting emotions hit Waverly, causing the gun to tremble in her hand. Happy Wynonna was alive. Angry because Wynonna had sluttified instantly with her boyfriend. Furious Wynonna hadn’t contacted her. For _months._ “I thought you were dead.”

“Might have been, for a while,” Wynonna said, now glaring at Champ. “I’m sorry ‘bout that. I thought you’d split up with this brick-head years ago. You’re smarter than that, right? I mean, you were… you got that reward at school, right?”

“Valedictorian,” Waverly said, now propping the gun by the side of the door. She’d shared as much information as she could with Wynonna, when her elder sister felt like responding. “There’s not much options in town, you know, so...”

“Yeah, I feel ya, sister.” Wynonna grinned. “Oh, come here.” She vaulted over the bed, grabbing Waverly in a fierce and inappropriate hug, due to the state of her undress . “Look at that. My baby girl. All grown up and shootin’.”

“You get out, _now,_ ” Waverly snapped at Champ, even as she was being crushed by her long-lost sister. “Before I shoot you instead.” He gulped nervously in response. She then lowered her voice. “Wynonna.” Waverly attempted to extricate herself from her sister. “Why are you back now?”

“You know why,” Wynonna said, stepping aside as Champ scrambled past the two of them, grabbing dropped clothes as he went. “I’m 27 as of yesterday. And it’s time I stopped running.”

The words hit Waverly, sending both relief and anger into her. 

Relief that someone else could take up the Earp burden after all. Anger, because she’d honestly thought it would be up to her.

Waverly had attempted to take up the mantle of Heir. She hadn’t run away. Wynonna had, because she didn’t know how to deal with problems. She always ran away; into her drinks, into men, into other towns. Anywhere but somewhere where she had to remain still, and deal with everything as it came crashing back on her, or had to deal with the heated looks of the locals, seeing herself reflected in their eyes as a town pariah. A person no one wanted near their sons and daughters, mothers and fathers.

Waverly had been preparing, ever since Willa and daddy died. She’d tried to be the responsible one.

But to be fair, Waverly hadn’t been the one that shot their father.

“Wynonna, what gives you the right to just waltz back after everything that happened? You were alive all this time, and you never thought to inform us?” Waverly placed her hands on her hips, practically brimming with indignation. “When our uncle died, you never came to the funeral, either.”

“I lost my phone months ago, and I didn't remember your number when I got a burner. Sorry about that. As for coming back… I had to, Waves.” Wynonna sighed, for a moment looking far older than her years. It almost cracked Waverly’s heart to witness. “Seeing all the shit out there, I knew more and more I had to come back. It’s just – everything’s quarantined, border patrols everywhere… hell of a journey back.” She paused. “I was attacked earlier by a revenant. But… I fought it. I could _sense it_ , Waves. Match it in strength. And I… I realized that I am the Heir. I’ve got the curse.”

An unpleasant sensation groped Waverly’s gut. _Wynonna’s the Heir._ “You don’t have Peacemaker, though,” Waverly pointed out, even as she felt her destiny unraveling from her. The conviction that she had to be the one to step up and save everyone took on a hard, hollow edge. “Kind of hard to be the Heir when you don’t have the one weapon capable of taking out the revs.”

“Oh, I know where that is,” Wynonna said offhandedly. Waverly gaped at her sister for a moment, then slapped her across the cheek.

“You’re kidding me! Do you know how long I’ve been looking for it? Thinking you were dead, that I was going to be the Heir, and...” Waverly sighed, clasping her hands together, gathering her temper. “Well, that’s a relief, anyway. Didn’t want to break out the peashooters. But how do I know you won’t just take it and run off again like you usually do?”

“Waves,” Wynonna said, visibly hurt. “I told you, I’m done running.”

“I hope you mean it,” Waverly said sincerely, trying to keep her emotions under wraps, and the resignation in her soul. It was bitter, disappointing, somehow, to have that conviction of her duties wrenched away from her. “Because I don’t… I don’t want to be the only Earp left.”

Her sister’s gaze softened. “You won’t be.”

 _I wish I could believe you._ But history said something else to Waverly. People always left in the end. Like mama. Willa and her father. Then Wynonna.

Would Wynonna really play it different this time?

The shitty thing was, Waverly really, _really_ hoped so. As much as she wanted to lash out at her sister, she was more afraid that her aggressive reaction might just propel Wynonna right back out again. And she didn’t think she could handle that. Not again.

Even if she did return and welcome Waverly by grinding on top of her treacherous boyfriend. “Well, I’m going to eat, take a shower, and sleep early. Maybe if you haven’t run away by the morning, we can talk more. So just try and stay put, okay?”

“I’ll try my best,” Wynonna said dryly. “I do hope you’ve stocked up on drink to sweeten the deal.”

Waverly rolled her eyes. “Still in the closet, untouched.” Leaving her sister behind, she headed straight for the shower, wanting to wash off the day. Oh, and she’d send some angry texts to Champ as well.

He’d better be sorry. That shit-ticket.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wynonna's sticking around (maybe?). Jury's still out on that. Waverly assumes that she'll no longer be priority for Black Badge, but they still insist on getting her some extra protection. She'll meet the assigned officer soon...

Wynonna didn’t run away, though Waverly dreamed about it that night. When morning came, she rushed to check that her sister was still in the house, and saw Wynonna sleeping like a log, one foot sticking out of the covers. She breathed a sigh of relief. The initial panic from her dream faded.

 _Maybe she won’t leave again._ Waverly kept watching for the signs, anyway. Not quite daring to believe that Wynonna wanted roots back in the place of so much suffering. The place where she killed their father. Logically, Waverly didn't blame her, she didn't, but... the less irrational part did. Three days passed, and the wild child stuck it out. She bought things for herself, stocked up on way too much alcohol, so that the bottom pantry cupboard almost overflowed with bottles.  
  


Waverly also experienced the final severing of her imagined destiny. She watched as the Black Badge agents came around to the Homestead, fully intending for Waverly to sign a contract, and being surprised by Wynonna’s presence. Delighted by her presence, too. Well, more Doc than Dolls. Dolls looked pretty done with Wynonna’s attitude. A quick test of her skills, however, soon had him ushering her under his wing.

It was all good. Wynonna was a better fighter, and of age. Of course they’d want to sign her on. But Waverly couldn’t help but feel that something had been ripped away from her. The life she’d been preparing herself for was now no longer necessary. Waverly was back to being the kid sister again, with Wynonna promising to protect her. Promising not to leave again, because she saw the panic in her sibling’s eyes.

Oh well. Waverly would figure something else out to be. No problem. It probably meant they wouldn’t be sending around someone from the sheriff department to look after her, either, which caused a tiny bit of disappointment. She’d partly been hoping for someone hunky from the station to be her guard, though she knew that the opportunities for relationships in Purgatory peaked at Champ. He was the golden boy. Jock and quarterback, rodeo champ and bull rider. Practically royalty in these parts. So she’d struck gold by hitching up to him. Shrugged off the stigma of the Earp name by making it big at school. She intended to peak past school, though, unlike some of the popular crowd.

When she brought up the question of the guard to Dolls, he gave her a blank stare.

“You’re still valuable,” Dolls said, watching as Waverly signed the contract next to her sister’s name. “So I’m sure we can get you trained up if needed. Being an Earp isn’t the safest thing to be, after all. And _should_ something happen to Wynonna, you’re our only backup.”

“I’ll protect her,” Wynonna said, already excited over the fact she had an official _Special Deputy_ badge. “Any shit-for-brains that even _thinks_ about attacking her, I’ll blow them straight to hell.”

Hard _not_ to be flattered by that. “Aw, thanks, sis. But I do think I should learn to protect myself, too.”

“We will have a problem, now,” Doc said in his whiskey-smooth drawl. “Since the Heir is of age and alive, all the previously killed revenants will be resurrected. So they will know Wynonna’s back in town.”

The more Waverly examined Doc, the more suspicious she became. He knew so much about their family. But… he couldn’t possibly be…

“Question,” she said, following through with her gut instinct. “You wouldn’t happen to be the _real_ Doc Holliday? Silly, I know,” she added with a light laugh, “but this is curse central, and you do seem to know an awful lot of things.”

Something seemed to twinkle in his eyes. “I am,” he said, bowing to her and tipping his hat, and also causing her stomach to drop in shock. “Though I’ve spent most of my time being stuck in a well. Black Badge Dolls here got me out.” He gave Dolls a tight smile. Waverly noticed how Wynonna examined Doc. Yeah… Holliday was _exactly_ her type. Then again, Wynonna’s type was anything reasonably handsome with something dangling between their legs.

“Doc Holliday?” Wynonna said. “ _The_ Doc Holliday?”

“Yep,” Waverly said. “But the records I have say you died of tuberculosis. Obviously I guess no one bothered to check down that well of yours for what – 130 years?”

“I was a little far out for help,” Doc said sardonically. “But I assure you, the century just flew by.”

“Records?” Now Dolls cut in, attention on Waverly. “Mind if I see them?”

“Sure!” Waverly said, suddenly delighted. She knew her research to be good – though she hadn’t had a chance to show anyone. Champ saw it as one of her weird habits, so she never bothered telling him about it. “Right this way!” She resisted the urge to practically skip along.

In her room, she showed them over to her book and newspaper laden desk, all stacked neatly, and a pinboard with clippings of all the revenants she had been able to confirm as active in the region. She’d confirmed about forty revenants in total and was still scouring the data that existed to register the others. It was there – she just needed to make the connections.

Dolls let out a low whistle. “Damn, you’ve been busy.” He ran his finger over the board, clearly counting the revenants. “This is impeccable. Better work than even Black Badge has done.”

“My sister’s smart,” Wynonna said, wearing an odd look of pride. Waverly wasn’t used to Wynonna referring to her that way, and felt herself swelling slightly, basking in her sister’s affection.

“Oh, it’s, you know, nothing, really,” Waverly beamed. “I do have a slight advantage, given our family history is all about taking the bad guys out.”

“You know, you were supposed to be the normal one,” Wynonna accused. “Have the life none of the other Earps had.”

“That stopped when you left,” Waverly said, and Wynonna’s lips thinned. Waverly knew it was a low blow, but it was also the truth.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I picked up the slack. _Someone_ had to.”

They both stared for a moment, until Wynonna broke away with a huff of breath, fire fading out of her. “I should have seen that coming.”

“You really should have,” Waverly agreed.

“I’m going to need copies of this...” Dolls stepped back, nodding. “And I suppose your help in them as well. We have to use all the assets we can.”

Waverly latched onto the idea, excitement coursing through at the prospect of a new purpose. So, okay, she didn’t have to be the dispatcher after all. She could _help_ them dispatch. Her research, her preparation – none of it was wasted. “Yeah, I can do this for you. Count me in. Oh, question. Do I get a uniform?” She squealed as a thought stuck her. “Oh my god, a flamethrower?”

“No,” Dolls said flatly.

“Ha, I asked that as well,” Wynonna said, thumping her sister on the back. “You and me, we’ll make a good team.” She scowled at the other two, as if expecting them to contradict her.

“Yes… as long as you don’t break my back first.” Waverly rubbed at where she was certain a bruise would form later. “Not quite as strong as you, after all.”

“Oh, shit! Sorry. I didn’t realize I’d hit that hard!”

“It’s okay. I’m fine. Nothing I can’t handle.” She allowed her sister to hug her, telling herself she needed to get used to it. Wynonna seemed determined to make up for the time lost. And, well… Waverly wasn’t exactly opposed to having a sister around. Especially if that sister wanted to connect with her. It’d be nice to have someone to share her research with – someone who truly understood.

It’d be nice, for once, to not have people leave.

Sure, she tried her best to fit into Purgatory, at the advice of her sister. When Wynonna asked her to play it normal, because at least one of the sisters could have a chance to be so, Waverly plunged into it. Cheerleading, dating the golden boy, making friends with people like Chrissy and Steph. Smiling, smiling, smiling, because everyone liked her when she smiled, and she knew how to beam in perfect customer-service manner.

This was what people wanted of her, after all. Bubbly little Earp. Regular ray of sunshine in a gloomy town. Better than than the town pariah, she supposed.

With Wynonna having secured Peacemaker, and showing off her shooting skills in the back yard, Waverly had about four hours before her next shift at Shorty’s. She headed straight over to Champ’s, since he’d sent her about a hundred text messages and a lot of voicemails that all basically boiled down to: “Sorry.”

When he let her into his house, he looked both happy and sheepish, and also as dull as the bricks Wynonna had compared him to. But that was to be expected. Waverly wasn’t dating Champ for his intelligence, after all. “I’m glad you’re here, baby,” he said, dragging her with him. “I’m so sorry about what happened. I’ll make it up to you right here.” Almost before she had time to formulate a conversation with him, he instantly kissed her, trying to inject as much passion into it as possible. Except it was an entirely inappropriate time to do so.

“No, Champ, get away!” she said, removing his lips from hers and holding him at arm’s length. He appeared dejected, even pouting a bottom lip. “You just cheated on me – you think kissing me will make me forget that?”

“Sorry babe,” he said, holding his palms up in a placating gesture. “I was drunk. Made a bad choice. But I didn’t do anything with her, I swear.”

“Is that really the excuse you’re going to stick with?”

“Yeah, well, a-and she was threatening me with a knife.”

She was? Waverly recalled the knife in Wynonna’s hands from last night. “Why?”

“I don’t know. She was asking why I knew some guy.” He attempted to wrap her close to him again. “I’ll make up for it. How about I take you out somewhere in the car later? Show I’ve only got eyes for you.”

“Yeah, you have a _lot_ of eyes there, Champ, for people that aren’t just me,” Waverly said in disgust, and he stopped his attempts to get closer. “You went with my _sister!”_

He didn’t respond to that, seeming to understand somewhere that it did look quite bad when stated out loud.

 _He instantly jumped with Wynonna. Like I’m the disposable Earp._ Something uncomfortable wriggled in her guts. She was five years old again, watching Wynonna and Willa play together at the Salt Lake.

 _Just leave her there, she’ll take care of herself._ Willa’s words, before she ran off with Wynonna, leaving Waverly alone, hugging Mr. Rabbit. Always left out.

“Sorry, babe. I mean it, I’m sorry.”

Blinking out of the memory, Waverly folded her arms. The _sorry_ wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “Champ, I’ve got to go to Shorty’s.” She didn’t, for another three and a bit hours, but now she just wanted to get away. Her skin was crawling, and something about his expression right now really irritated her. Like he needed a good slap to those dazzlingly white teeth.

Champ’s expression went from desperate to hurt. “Please let me make it up to you. I don’t know how else. Just let me...” She buffeted another closing attempt, and fully removed herself from him.

“What kind of girlfriend would I be if I just accepted that you tried to cheat on me?” She snapped, leaving him sputtering behind her. She’d made her point. She’d been a little nervous making it, but he needed to hear the words from her. It still made her wish somewhere she didn’t need to say such words to her own boyfriend.

It wasn’t the first time he’d shown his wandering eyes. Probably wouldn’t be the last. But he stuck with Waverly.

That had to mean something, right?

On paper, she had the perfect relationship. Head cheerleader dating the quarterback. It was what she was supposed to do, what people expected – and she knew she could do a hell of a lot worse than him. And for his faults, he did like her. She was sure of it. The one thing they found hardest to connect on was their differing sex drives. Waverly understood somewhere that maybe Champ needed more than what she offered at times.

But that was normal too, right? Girls had less of a sex drive.

 _Unless you’re Wynonna Earp,_ Waverly thought wryly, remembering how every guy in Purg High could claim they’d taken her.

That was certainly _one_ way they differed.

* * *

Shorty’s didn’t open for another three hours. Waverly let herself in, and Gus, frantically mopping up an accidental spillage of monstrous proportions in the basement, laughed in giddy relief when Waverly emerged. “You’re just the angel I want to see right now! Though why are you here so early?”

“Wynonna’s back. It’s… busy over at the Homestead, so I figured I’d go elsewhere.”

“She’s back, huh?” Gus wrung out her wet, beer-drenched cloth in a bucket. “Well, least she ain’t dead, I suppose. Though I’m going to have words with her, leaving us all without a peep.”

“Make sure you lure her in first with the hooch,” Waverly said. She might still be bitter with Wynonna for running out on her, and picking up all the pieces left behind herself, but the last thing Wynonna needed right now was more reason to leave them. So whatever involuntary, dark thoughts flitted across Waverly’s mind – like feeling people preferred Wynonna to her, body wise and curse wise – Waverly wouldn’t say anything.

Because she needed her sister to stay.

Following Gus’s instructions, Waverly attended to the upper floor, dusting down surfaces, with extended instructions to clean out the pumps, too. She took off her third layer top, since it wasn’t as cold inside Shorty’s as it was outside, snug in her high waist jeans.

Honestly, because she was so short, she looked pretty stupid in a lot of typical clothes. The high waist suited her frame. It suited a peppy barmaid, and Gus had never found reason for complaint, given Waverly helped draw patrons into the bar. She’d found her own brand of fashion in the end and worked it hard.

Just two more pumps left to do. She began dabbing at one, reached around the back, and – “Oh! Jesus! Shit!” She shrieked as beer spat at her, drenching her top. Desperately she bashed at the pump, until the evil thing finally turned off. “Ugh! Perfect.” She examined herself, dripping with alcohol and frustrated, knowing it’d take forever to get the smell of stale beer off.

“Ah, Waves, that’s a _terrible_ waste of alcohol.” The familiar voice came from the entrance of the bar, and, startled, Waverly turned to face Wynonna, wearing a shit-eating grin. Behind her stood a taller woman in sheriff uniform, white Stetson upon her head, red hair glinting in the sun.

“Ah – ha,” Waverly managed, completely taken off guard. _Who is that woman?_ “What are you doing here, Wynonna?” Hastily, Waverly applied the rag she was using to clean the pump to herself, attempting to rid herself of stray droplets on bare skin. Instead, she rubbed them in and made it a hell of a lot worse. 

“Here to introduce you to your new chick from the sheriff’s department. She actually visited the Homestead first, but you’d already vanished.”

“Uh – Yeah,” Waverly said, slightly embarrassed, watching them both come in. _My guard’s a woman?_ A tall woman as well. They didn’t grow them that size in Purgatory, did they? “I went to, um, visit Champ before dropping into work early.”

Wynonna grinned. “That visit lasted long, I see. A whole two minutes. You bust his cheating ass?”

“Given that he was cheating with my own _sister_ , I don’t think you’ve got any say in this. Also, he mentioned you threatened him with a knife.”

“It’s my kink,” Wynonna responded, and Waverly huffed in disgust, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“I so didn’t need to know that.”

“Lots of things I don't want to know about you either. Alright, do your thing, Haught-stuff.”

 _Hot stuff?_ Waverly seriously wanted to punch her sister in that moment. Calling an officer "hot stuff"? Did she want to get arrested like last time? 

“Sorry if this is a little inconvenient,” the red-head stated, taking her Stetson off with one hand, sticking out the other for Waverly to shake. “I’m Nicole Haught.”

Waverly fought between a greeting smile and confusion. She was sure she heard “hot” be used there. Twice. “Hi, I’m –”

“She knows,” Wynonna interrupted. “I already ran her through that gauntlet. Now, you need help cleaning out that tap? ‘Cause I know a better place for it to spill.”

Nicole raised both her eyebrows, not missing the implication. “It’s nine in the morning,” Nicole stated. There was a soft drawl to her voice. Southern. Definitely not from around here, then, because Waverly was sure she’d notice someone like Nicole in Purgatory.

“Shit, that the time? I missed my wake-up shot,” Wynonna said, groaning. “No wonder my head’s spinning.”

“She’s an Earp,” Waverly supplied to Nicole’s incredulous expression. “We’re well known for drinking people under the table. It’s why we won’t let Wynonna run the bar – we won’t have anything left to serve the customers. Me, on the other hand – much more responsible.”

A light, musical laugh escaped Nicole’s lips. “Okay, I see. Well, as you might know, the sheriff’s apartment wants to assign someone to the youngest Earp. You’ll have my contact number. I’ll be the one you speak to in the office. When I’m not sorting out other duties, I’ll be checking in on you, and escorting you where you need to go.”

“Sounds… stalkery,” Waverly said, worrying her bottom lip.

“Yeah, Waves, you got a stalker. At least she’s not a revenant. I checked already.”

By the way the redhead’s lips tautened, Waverly had a horrible vision of just _how_ exactly Wynonna had “checked” Nicole’s revenant status. She also saw a gun tucked into Wynonna’s boot, and recognized the pattern immediately. That stupid gun that she’d been searching for over three years for.

“Please don’t tell me you shoved Peacemaker into an officer’s face.”

“What? I didn’t do that. Just… pointed it in her direction a bit. Dolls says better be safe than sorry.”

“The Homestead is protected from revenants, Wynonna.”

“It is? But the protection...” Wynonna momentarily faltered.

“All sorted,” Waverly said, not wanting to revisit the memory of digging up Pikachu the hamster’s grave again to get the talisman. Or her sense of guilt of having buried it there in the first place. “Figured out what was wrong! Anyway – I’m so sorry about that, officer,” Waverly continued with Nicole. “My sister doesn’t take being sober too well.”

“I can see that,” Nicole said dryly. “You don’t need to apologize for her. Anyway, sorry in advance for what will be happening. I have my orders, but I’ll try my best not to be in your way too much. You okay?” she said, when Waverly glanced down at the sodden rag in her hand.

“Yeah. God, I’m sopping wet,” Waverly said. Wynonna’s snort and the redhead’s slightly too innocent smile made Waverly power on quickly with, “I keep uh, meaning to remind Shorty about these taps. Few of them don’t work right, you know?” She glared at Wynonna, just daring her sister to say something. Daring herself _not_ to go as red as a beetroot and look for a hole to sink into. “I uh, um, need to change out of this.”

“Oh, are you going to the bathroom?” Nicole asked. “I’ll come with. The cappuccino I had is getting to me right now.”

“Sure.” Waverly picked up her top from under the counter, and beckoned Nicole to follow. “And don’t even think about it, Wynonna!”

Wynonna, as predicted, had her hand on one of the beer pulls. Hastily, Wynonna grabbed the cloth Waverly had discarded. “How could you think so little of me?” she said. “Look, see?” She dabbed at the faulty beer tap. “Cleaning.”

Suppressing a groan, Waverly led Nicole into the bathroom.

“Your sister sounds like quite the handful,” Nicole noted. Their gazes met in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. Dimples popped out on full display as she smiled. Waverly couldn’t help but just look. Intrigued by the sheer, unexpected _prettiness_ of the officer. Even the men’s clothes suited Nicole, somehow, giving her a kind of confident bearing.

“Same old Wynonna,” Waverly said with a half-hearted chuckle. They kept their eyes locked together. “Three years gone, and she comes back and acts like no time has passed at all.”

“She does seem serious about wanting to help you out, though,” Nicole said. She broke the contact, disappeared into one of the stalls and locked it. “She wanted to challenge me to an arm-wrestling match to make sure I could actually protect you. There was something about a sharpshooting contest, too.”

Absently, Waverly began to wash off the worse of the beer. “Did you accept the challenge?” The redhead did seem like she was capable of taking care of herself, if it was only in the way she moved, with an assured confidence most people lacked. Plus, there had to be police academy training there, right?

“Special Agent Dolls advised me not to,” Nicole answered. “Though I could probably give her a run for her money later if she asks again.”

Waverly grinned, trying to imagine that. Wynonna always jumped at the chance to show off. Waverly hastened now to take her top off, pulling the damp clothing with both arms. Usually this move worked just fine, but she’d underestimated the stickiness of the beer. Waverly’s arms became trapped above her head. Like something out of a damn cartoon. _Crap_.

Sounds of a flushing toilet filled the stall, followed by the unlocking of a door. Nicole went to wash her hands. Waverly groaned in embarrassed distress. “Uh, Officer, I’m stuck. Mind helping?”

Nicole chuckled, stopping her washing. “Sure. I got you,” she said, turning Waverly to face her, so she could peel off the wet, clammy shirt. Her hands briefly brushed the bare skin of Waverly’s arms.

“Thanks, because that situation would have been really –” Waverly noticed Nicole’s almost wolfish grin, “ – awkward...” Her voice trailed off. For one second, her mind went completely blank. Unable to register anything but that smile, those bright eyes. She also forgot how to breathe. To save face, she tugged on her other top, which provided an effective barrier between her and the officer, because suddenly, the situation felt just as awkward as she’d described, and she wasn’t entirely sure why.

“I better get back,” Nicole said, clearing her throat. “I just wanted to make sure we were properly introduced before I went to work.” The smile dimmed, and Nicole fished in her jacket for a PSD card, pinching it between two fingers. Waverly snatched it away. “What time do you finish work tonight?”

“Nine,” Waverly said. Nicole nodded, expression now strictly business.

“I’ll be there.” She strode off with that oddly confident gait, glancing back at Waverly once before vanishing through the door. Waverly stood frozen to the spot, still not entirely sure what to make of the whole meeting. She examined the little card.

Officer Nicole Haught.

Well, now things made sense. “Of course she is.” Waverly heaved a sigh, but tucked the card away. She’d save the number to her phone.

And now, she had to go and deal with Wynonna, and pray to God her sister hadn’t already drained the taps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this one, I'll try to release once a week. Wanted to get the meeting between Waverly and Nicole down fast. Love these two. Also love the dynamic Wynonna brings to scenes. Hope you enjoy!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicole POV. Wonder what she thinks of the Earps...

When Nicole saw something appealing – her body didn’t particularly want to wait for her mind to tell it _no_. So when she’d walked into Shorty’s behind Wynonna, saw Waverly Earp standing there like a deer caught by headlights, spaghetti strap top wet and clinging to her shape...

 _Whoa_. Yes, very interesting. Nicole’s stomach decided that then would be a great time to flip out. Her brain surged with adrenaline, making her feel the most awake and alert she’d been all day. Sort of like being doused in a sudden, cold, April shower. She became all too aware of the pulsing of blood in her neck, ears, cheeks. The kind of reaction that had nothing to do with nerves, and everything to do with the _other_ thing. It definitely trumped the cappuccino she’d been using to revive herself from a bad morning.

 _Jesus, put the brakes on, Haught._ She hadn’t expected the sight of Waverly Earp to hit her quite like that. Been a while since a first glance at a pretty girl triggered an effect, and she included her crush from when she was fourteen. Been a while since she’d been with anyone, and had just consigned herself somewhat into accepting perpetually single status.

Not that it mattered – since Nicole knew better than to let her feelings get in the way of a job. Besides, she thought – anyone with two eyes would have probably felt the same way. It’d be crazy _not_ to have that reaction.

Maybe Shae had a point in that she had a habit of falling too hard, too fast – Shae being on the direct end of such a moment – but Nicole knew better now. She’d play it cool. She could do cool. Queen of cool, right here.

“Thanks again for the ride, Haught-stuff,” Wynonna said with a massive grin as Nicole pulled up outside the department. “Off to go and do some top-secret missions.”

“With that gun?” Nicole examined Wynonna’s special gun, with a longer barrel than normal. It looked out of place compared to the smaller, more compact Glock-22 Nicole wore. Sure had been nice, standing on the dangerous end of that. She didn’t quite trust Wynonna not to accidentally blow it. Hard to imagine someone like Wynonna might just be the one person keeping the Ghost River Triangle safe.

“Best way to bump off demons,” Wynonna said.

“Shooting demons with that old thing?”

“Yeah. Been in the family a long time. Never changed.” She hefted up the gun, displaying the unusually long barrel.

“I don’t know... I wouldn’t trust that. Barrels warp after a while.”

“It’s never failed us before. Only our aim does.” Without another word, she got out the car and briskly walked into the side entrance. Nicole narrowed her eyes.

A demon-killer weapon? She knew from experience just how hard demons were to kill. She itched at her shirt. Looked at the faint white lines on her wrists.

This Black Badge Division were clearly focused in on demonic happenings within the Ghost River Triangle – if not beyond – and Nicole felt slightly annoyed on a level that she’d been delegated to the role of babysitter. She wanted action. To arrest those who threatened others. To keep people safe. All her training led up to that.

 _Protecting that Earp kid is probably the most important thing you can offer with your job right now,_ Nedley had said. The way he talked about Waverly, along with Wynonna’s fierce, unbridled aggression, Nicole had actually assumed at one point that Waverly really was just a sweet little doe-eyed kid. The kind everyone doted on and stuffed with candy.

How wrong she was. Sweet and doe eyed, sure. Kid? Hell no. Jury was out on the being stuffed with candy part.

Maybe Nicole was tempting fate, wanting to work in Purgatory, to associate with people like the Earps, and their demons. Maybe she _should_ stick to the easy jobs. But she listened to the tiny part of her that thirsted for more.

She entered the main building of the Sheriff’s Department, smiling at Nedley.

“How did the meeting with the youngest Earp go?” Nedley said, directing her to a huge stack of papers on her desk. “Well, I hope.”

“As well as it can be with a sister like Wynonna nesting over her,” Nicole said. “She did point a gun at me at one point.”

“Hm.” Nedley scowled. “That Wynonna’s trouble. She broke that little Earp’s heart when she left. Waverly’s a good kid, you know.”

“I’m sure,” Nicole said, thinking she understood just why the people she’d spoken to seemed so oddly protective of her. There was something about Waverly. There seemed to be an inherent _pull_ , encouraged by the way she smiled. Most likely if she was a victim in a crime, no doubt everyone Nicole interviewed would all be like: _everybody loved her. No one could hate her._ “I know we’re supposed to be helping out Black Badge with their missions, but I can’t help but feel like we’re being put to pasture when it comes to the real issues. You know...” Nicole looked at a mounted headpiece on the wall, of a twisted face with ram’s horns curling out of its head. “Demons.”

“They’ll call us in when they need us,” Nedley said in a gruff voice, looking pissed off. Xavier Dolls and Doc Holliday had basically stolen the entire side department through the door by the vending machine, without checking to see if Nedley was okay with it. “Meanwhile, people still gotta deal with the ordinary things. There might be an apocalypse going on, but that ain’t an excuse to stop doing our jobs.”

Nicole sighed and glanced at the ceiling. “Right. That’s true. Still, I do think it makes more sense for us to be involved more intimately.”

“Well, your target is an Earp.” Nedley handed her a black coffee from the machine, which Nicole accepted, though she’d much prefer a lighter, milkier one. Whatever, the fact someone gave her something was worthy enough. “The Earps are neck deep in their shit. I daresay you’ll see some action before long. Just...” He tapped her chest. “Make sure you’re wearing your bulletproof vest at all times.”

“Yeah… that seems smart.” Though she wasn’t sure if the vest might work against a magical gun.

“I’ve a funny feeling about it, for sure. I know maybe it doesn’t seem that exciting, but you might just be doing the most important job of all.” He gave her a small smile, which vanished so quickly, that Nicole wondered if she’d been imagining it. “Now get to work; those papers won’t file themselves.”

With a reluctant nod, Nicole did just that. Peeking at her clock the whole while to see what the time was, and when she’d need to escort Waverly home from Shorty’s. About an hour into her shift, she got a text message from Shae.

Shae: _How’s it going, Nicole? Managed to get Dolls to let you in on the demon shenanigans?_

Nicole smiled. Though the fire between her and Shae had long since fizzled out, they’d remained good friends. Even with the distance between Purgatory and the big city. And, well, being in Purgatory with no friends made her want to connect to the friends she _did_ have.

Nicole: _Nope. I’m strictly dealing with cats stuck in trees and helping old ladies across roads. Still._

Shae: _Sounds exciting._

Nicole: _I met a girl today. On the job. Waverly Earp. She was… something._

Shae: _She was the one you got assigned to?_

Nicole: _Yep._

Shae: _I take it she’s not a cat stuck in a tree or an old lady who needs help across the road?_

Nicole: _She’s from a notorious family in these parts. There might be some trouble. I’m just to make sure she gets around the place safe._

Shae: _I look forward to hearing more about her. Take care, Nicky. Speak again soon._

Tucking her phone away, Nicole left the message unanswered, instead trying to focus once more on her work.

* * *

A hell of a lot of paperwork later, lunch, and watching Wynonna and Doc approach Nedley about a case which she wasn’t allowed to take part in, Nicole left for Shorty’s at the last hour of her shift, driving the police car and parking it outside in the encroaching darkness. Most people clustered in bars at this point, and very few wanted to be alone.

Conversation babbled from Shorty’s, loud enough even to be heard from outside, and Nicole figured she might as well go in and grab a non-alcoholic drink while waiting, since it wasn’t yet Waverly’s shift end. She knew the driving distance from Shorty’s to the Homestead to be less than five minutes, but those less than five minutes might be the one thing stopping the Earp from getting herself in danger. So, of course, Nicole would do her job.

Black Badge had said as much – now Wynonna was back, things would be changing around here. People who thought they were safe might find themselves in severe danger. Those Wynonna associated with, would be in trouble by sheer proximity. Guess that now included the whole sheriff department.

Adjusting her Stetson, she entered Shorty’s, and got more than a few eyeballs shot her way, since an officer of the law intruded in on potential fun. Also, there weren’t too many women walking around in Stetsons, uniform, and wearing a gun belt. The bar brimmed with activity, and a group of men clustered in one corner, voices loud and boisterous. She spotted Waverly just finishing serving them, expertly dodging a clumsy grab, and striding fast back behind the counter with empty glasses. Since she was so immersed in her job, Nicole found it just fine to watch her discreetly. Going about her duties.

One of the other waiters approached Nicole, and she asked for lemonade. Without too much concern of being discovered, Nicole allowed a little of her inner gay to seep out, just… drinking in the different things Waverly had to offer. She took her hat off, holding it just in front of her.

Long hair sometimes didn’t work on shorter people, but Waverly pulled it off with an almost serene elegance. She had a great face for smiling, and she broke out that smile often. Her jaw was prominent enough to break things by itself, too. And what color were her eyes, exactly? Nicole couldn’t quite figure it out.

Waverly, clearly sensing someone’s attention on her, turned to see Nicole. Which sent Nicole’s brain into slight gay panic. To make it seem like she hadn’t been staring like an idiot, a close-mouthed smile came to Nicole’s lips, followed by a quick nod, before finding a table to sit down by. She swore she felt Waverly’s suspicion on her the whole while, so decided to focus on her drink, and read the crowd for any signs of trouble.

It was said demons couldn’t enter Shorty’s, but that didn’t mean all the humans in the bar were necessarily innocent, either.

Nicole had dealt with enough shitheads in the space of a month to know what kind of trailer trash existed in Purgatory’s fringe community, and the conservative die-hards who still lived in complete denial that anything was wrong with their lives.

She continued to sneak glances at Waverly all the while, since for Nicole, she was the most interesting thing in the room. Bottled ray of sunshine, that one. And apparently neck deep in curse. Nicole knew a thing or two about curses.

Well, most people probably did, since the whole world decided to go to shit. Demons overran cities. The Cult of Bulshar had finally achieved their life’s dream: hell on earth. Making Purgatory, ironically, one of the last holding places against chaos.

Everyone was here in a way, just waiting for final judgment to fall. Wondering if they’d end up in heaven after all.

Lost in a memory of blood, Nicole barely registered Waverly next to her, at least until she received a tap to the shoulder. “Hi, officer.”

“Hey,” Nicole replied, loosening the death grip on her glass. “Ready for your official ride back home?”

“Yes,” Waverly said, buttoning her coat fully up. “Though it is just a fifteen-minute walk. I’ve survived it many times before.”

“Sorry. More than my job’s worth to refuse orders.” Nicole hadn’t finished her lemonade, but she didn’t care. She left change and a small tip, slid her Stetson on, and led the way outside, Waverly following, arms folded protectively in front. Also, Nicole decided that Waverly’s eyes were most likely hazel. Perpetually in flux between two colors, depending on the light. That would explain why she couldn’t initially figure it out.

“You’re driving me home in that? Oh, officer,” Waverly said, grinning in spite of herself. “So official.”

“What exactly did you expect?” Nicole asked, holding the door open for Waverly to clamber into.

“Something discreet, you know. Like those FBI black SUVs with the shaded windows.”

“That’s hardly discreet,” Nicole said, shutting the passenger door and eventually clambering into the driver’s seat. “And I’m not secret services – just your plain old county cop.”

“Who is babysitting an Earp.” Waverly popped the last letter, now adjusting the car seat to be more comfortable for her. “Remind me, what are you supposed to do with me again?”

 _I can think of some things to do with you,_ Nicole thought impulsively, before starting the car. “Nothing big. Just make sure you turn up to your house in one piece. I’m picking you up from the Homestead as well if you don’t already have a ride – your shifts start before mine, so that’ll work out fine...”

“Police taxi service? I could think of better things to do with your time,” Waverly said, apparently oblivious to the innuendo her words contained. “Just dealing with the other stuff that’s going on.”

“Ah, yep,” Nicole said, smirking in amusement, clearing her throat when Waverly appeared confused. “I think you’ll be called to the department to deal with some Black Badge matters as well – I hear you’re quite the researcher.”

Waverly broke into a delighted beam. “Yes, I do, ah, dabble in that. I know a few languages – none which are that useful outside of history lessons, mind you.”

“Wynonna said something about a head cheerleader, too?” Since Waverly seemed pliable to talk, Nicole felt more than obliged to discover more about the girl she was assigned to.

“Yes. And Valedictorian. I’m surprised she remembered the cheerleading thing, actually. She was a little busy screwing all the guys in Purg High and then Europe to notice that much.”

Nicole laughed, feeling a tiny pang of disappointment when they rumbled onto the Homestead. “Yeah, I can imagine that. Okay, listen. If you get into any trouble at all, call me. Whatever time of the day and night it is, whatever it is, I’ll help if I can. Even if it’s another stuck shirt or something. You’re officially my duty, Earp, and I’ll be damned before I start slacking on my job.”

Waverly grinned and took out her phone, quickly tapping something in it. A few seconds later, Nicole felt her own cellphone buzz. Stopping the car, she gave Waverly a “Really?” glance, before checking the text.

Unknown number: _Ok. :)_

“Great, I’ll save that,” Nicole said, struggling to hide how pleased she was. Although it was strictly business, something about getting this particular number caused a light stirring in her chest. “You’ll be alright?”

“I always am,” Waverly said. For one heart stopping second, Nicole pictured an image of Waverly going into the Homestead, alone. No one waiting for her, since her sister had taken flight three years before. It was such a lonely image, somehow. They held eye contact for slightly too long, however. Waverly looked away, brow furrowed.

Which led to the next impulsive decision to slip Nicole’s mouth, before her brain had time to clamp down on her tongue. “You got someone waiting for you? I can come keep you company if you want until your sister gets back.” The moment the sentence ended, Nicole silently berated herself, not really expecting Waverly to say yes.

But hoping all the same Waverly might say _yes_. She didn’t want to finish speaking to the Earp just yet. _I think I came on too strong._

Waverly’s mouth moved wordlessly, eyes widening like a frightened animal’s, before she blinked and said, “I, uh, there is someone waiting for me. Someone I’m in a relationship with,” she added, seeming to feel a desperate need to clarify. “A boy. Man!”

“A boy-man, huh?” Nicole couldn’t help it. Seeing Waverly act and sound so awkward made her want to keep pushing more. At the last second, she didn’t. “I hope he’s more of a man than a boy.” Best not to sound like she was hitting on her job. “Take care, okay? And I mean it. I’m here if you need it.”

“Thanks,” Waverly said, a bemused expression on her face as she left the car and walked home. She kept looking back, still wearing that bemused smile, before disappearing inside the house. The moment she vanished, Nicole’s own smile dropped.

She knew Waverly was in a relationship beforehand, but for some reason, she couldn’t quite control the knot of disappointment within. Nicole wasn’t entirely sure she could keep all her gay close to the vest, since pretty girls like Waverly evoked an almost visceral reaction at times, but she knew she’d never attempt to get in the way of someone else’s love life.

She might dance with the feelings a little, but she was, foremost, dedicated to her job.

That was all.

Nicole headed off back to the department, passing Lonnie in the bullpen, who looked just about ready to drop dead. He had a particular hatred of doing the paperwork, and it usually sent him into a braindead stupor after a while.

“Only four more to do,” Nicole said, encouraging him, and he revived enough to start clawing at the next document. It was strange, being in the office this late at night. The lights got real dim in places, casting strange shadows over the floors, sometimes tricking a tired cop into fear, before they registered what they looked at. She always made a point to have her back to the ram skull, because it’d made her jump a few times, seeing the bone from her periphery.

Lonnie slogged through his last papers, and Nicole started on her own set. The backlog of disorganized files, not in chronological or alphabetical order, all of them unsolved cases, or having long passed their statute of limitations. Sometimes it was boring, other times, she stumbled across interesting glimpses of Purgatory’s history, back when the department was the only enactor of the law for miles around.

She examined now an old, old document, crusting yellow, claiming a woman as being possessed, murdering her husband. Never found. Just the husband’s body. The photo attached with the file was faded, grainy, showing a demure, sitting woman in a frilly, blooming dress next to her husband.

 _Amazing,_ Nicole thought, _that they still have these old, old things. Seems almost a shame to be rid of them._ A lot of the writing was obscure squiggles. She placed the case in a special box she’d marked for potential students of Paleography, or something similar. Historical treasures, right in this tiny town.

Starting on the next one, she heard the distant approach of footsteps, making their way up metal stairs. The side door that opened into Black Badge claimed quarters opened, and through it stepped two individuals – Dolls and a woman Nicole didn’t recognize.

Since Lonnie had just weaseled his way out of the bullpen, that meant both sets of eyes focused on Nicole.

“Ah,” the mystery woman said. “I’ve not seen this one before.”

“Officer Haught’s the one we have assigned to looking after Waverly Earp,” Dolls said quickly to the woman, who had a severe set of features, and blonde hair twisted into a bun.

“Alright, then. Officer Haught, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Jeannie Lucado, but you may address me as just Lucado.”

Nicole wasn’t sure if she liked this woman’s tone or not. Deciding just to remain polite, she said, “I’m Nicole Haught. Pleased to meet you.”

“I’m sure. You’ve chosen difficult work, being in Purgatory. It’s always been a great source of interest, even before the Cult rose to prominence.” She glanced at the papers on Nicole’s desk. “Hopefully, if Dolls’ rogue band of… frankly, _questionable_ individuals gets the job done, you’ll never have to worry about them knocking on your door.”

“Ma’am,” Nicole managed, after a long pause, inclining her head as Lucado passed.

“They get the job done,” Dolls argued hotly. _Unusually_ heated for him, because when Nicole saw him, he had a default, unreadable tone and expression. “Better than anyone else we have.”

“I need results, not faith.” Lucado disappeared beyond the pen, and Dolls turned briefly to Nicole.

“She’s the head of our branch,” he explained. “She’s not really warming up to Wynonna, but beggars can’t be choosers.”

“Yes, sir. Wynonna does have that charming quality about her.”

Dolls twitched his lips into a fleeting smile. “That she does. Listen, Haught – we’ll try to keep the trouble away from you if we can, but since you’re watching over a potential target – sometimes that trouble might come to find you instead. Take care. Stay cautious.” The way he said it made Nicole highly suspect he’d been in the military at some point. She privately decided to go to the shooting range the next day, keep her aim up to task. 

Dolls left, and came back with Wynonna about ten minutes later. _They are busy tonight,_ Nicole observed. Something obviously had riled up the Black Badge division, if this Lucado dropped in from city headquarters. 

“’Sup, Haught-stuff?” she said, strolling in like she owned the place. Nicole nodded towards her, hastening to answer a call directed to their department. Wynonna seemed to stop before reaching the side door, hovering. Eavesdropping.

“Officer Nicole Haught here, how may I help?” She glared at Wynonna, but only got a casual lean against the door in response.

 _“Is Nedley there?”_ The voice sounded gruff, rasping. “ _I could really do with Nedley right now.”_

“He’s probably sleeping. I’m the on-duty officer tonight.”

 _“Shit,”_ the caller said. _“I have a, uh, a bit of a situation here. I’ve been locked in my own basement. By um, burglars.”_

Nicole gleaned a name and address from him, and looked for Lonnie, not wanting to go alone. However, Lonnie seemed to have poofed into thin air.

“I can come with, if you want,” Wynonna said, sliding into Nicole’s view proper. “Dolls wants me to do some protocol training, but I ain’t one for protocol, really.”

“Maybe you should discuss this with Dolls, first?”

“Dolls!” Wynonna bellowed, and the agent popped his head through the door, annoyed.

“Are you coming or not, Earp?”

“Nah. I’m gonna help Haught with some burglars. Rain check.”

Dolls’ expression became icier, but he shut the door without a word. Nicole swore for a moment that the room became colder in temperature.

“I think you just pissed him off.”

“He’s jumpy ‘cause his boss visited,” Wynonna drawled, happily following Nicole out to the car. “She doesn’t like me very much.”

“Can’t think why.”

They scrambled into the car, and took a short ride to the address of Roger Black. They approached the house, with lights on upstairs and downstairs, and discreetly checked to make sure the only way out was through the front door and windows.

“Follow my lead, Wynonna,” Nicole whispered, though the Earp looked a little too eager for action. The front door was broken, ajar, and they easily gained entry, making their way to the kitchen, where they heard laughter and low voices.

Two rather surprised young men stared at Nicole and Wynonna as they bust in. Both were going through what looked like Roger Black’s alcoholic stash, as there were bottles strewn around, and open cans of cider.

“Ah, shit, the cops,” one of them said.

“Are you coming quietly, or painfully?” Nicole asked, while Wynonna snorted, drawing up that absurd weapon of hers and pointing it towards the men.

Both men ignored Nicole. “Cops and the Heir,” the taller of them snarled. Wynonna stepped in front, and that gun of hers glowed yellow at the tip. _What in the world...?_

“Oh, I was so hopin’ for this,” Wynonna said, smiling in a sinister, almost insane way.

“Told you we shoulda listened to Bobo,” the shorter said. “Can’t even fuck around no more when there’s an Heir around.”

“She’s weak.” The taller clambered up, eerily fast, eyes glinting a bloody, luminous red. “Can’t aim for shit.” Seeing the Earp psyche herself, Nicole attempted to reach, stop her from pulling the trigger –

_Bang. Bang._

Both men, shot directly in the forehead, let out inhuman wails, and sank into _portals_ that opened up beneath them. They clawed and scrabbled and hissed, but were sucked into that redness. Nicole didn’t move, astonished by the whole occurrence.

“At this rate,” Wynonna said rather cheerfully, “We’ll have the revenant problem dealt with by next year.”

“They…” Nicole was at a loss for words. “ _That’s_ what your gun does?”

“Yep.” Wynonna mimed blowing the tip, now back to slate gray, and tucked it in her boot again. “Sends demons straight back to the fiery hells they came from.”

“Can it send normal people to hell, too?” Seeing how the gun reacted when pointed at someone, Nicole felt warier, curious.

“It doesn’t really work the same way if it’s not aimed at a demon,” she said. “But I guess if I did shoot someone with it, then yeah. Probably.” The slightly awkward pause that followed let Nicole remember the reason why they came here.

“Basement. Roger Black.” They let the unfortunate homeowner out, and he seemed embarrassed that he had to resort to calling the police, rather than dealing with the situation himself.

“Didn’t realize you were working with law enforcement now,” Roger said, turning his nose up when addressing Wynonna. “Assumed you’d be the one in jail.”

“Ha, ha, I know. Very ironic,” she said, deadpan. “Okay, let’s go. Problem solved.” She walked away without bothering to wait for Nicole’s approval on the matter. Nicole stayed longer, jotting down a quick statement, advising him to improve his house security for next time.

When she left the house, Wynonna was sat in the passenger seat of the police vehicle, thousand-yard stare switched on, absently cradling Peacemaker.

“Everything okay with you there, Earp?” Nicole got in, resting one hand on the wheel. When Wynonna said nothing, she added, “Didn’t bother you, killing those demons, did it?”

“Not these ones,” she said. “Just trailer trash. Easy as taking candy from a baby.”

“Well, you seem a little out of it.”

“Nothing a drink or two won’t fix.” She thumped the dashboard. “C’mon, let’s go already.”

Dubious, Nicole started the vehicle. Wynonna really didn’t like talking much on the personal things, it seemed. Interesting contrast between the siblings. Waverly seemed more sugary and open, more like a breath of fresh air. Wynonna, on the other hand – she was wounded. Nicole could tell that much. Wounded, and impulsive, and reckless.

Yet maybe Purgatory would be a safer place, for having her around.

 _We’ll see,_ Nicole thought, returning them to the station, feeling less than impressed when Wynonna swiped a drink of whisky from Nedley’s office without his permission, saying she’d pay it back later.

“Technically I could have you arrested for that, Earp.”

“Do it. See if I care. It’s Nedley, anyway, he’s fine with it.”

Nicole watched Wynonna disappear through the side-door. Wondering just what kind of mess she was getting herself into, tying her fate to the Earp family.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waverly and Nicole get to know each other a little better. Also, it's just a regular Monday morning, and Waverly likes to be in denial. Like the river.

Waking up, Waverly took stock of her current situation. Champ lay sprawled under the multiple sheets, his tattooed arm out in full display. He drooled into the spare pillow. She tried looking at him and allowing warmth and love to radiate through, but she felt… nothing, really. Just here was her boyfriend. The person she’d been dating for over five years, despite his sometimes less than perfect dedication, and wandering eyes.

When she had no one else to turn to, Champ was a good option. He was interested in her (or at least interested enough not to break up), and handsome, and popular. A big fish in a small town, where people settled with people because they didn’t like stirring the waters. He had little ambition of leaving, which suited Waverly fine, because neither did she. Not with the Earp curse looming over her head, or Wynonna leaving everything behind. People saw Waverly and Champ as a power couple, head cheerleader and rodeo champ, and wished they were in Waverly’s place.

She liked that feeling, of being admired, of being an upstanding model of society. Not an Earp like her alcoholic father, or a mother prepared to abandon her children, a dead sister who Waverly was sure had hated her when alive, or an angry and destructive Wynonna, who sometimes seemed like she loved her dead sister more than the living one.

The sex with Champ went great at first, all new territory for her, until she realized he only was really focused on one thing, so it became less of a spontaneous act for her, and more of a _when would be right to oblige my boyfriend again, since he’s been asking?_

She’d tried to be honest to him about what she wanted, but truthfully, she didn’t know what she wanted. If she told him to do something, he would. But if she didn’t tell him to slow down, to pay more attention to her, then he’d simply use her to get his rocks off. It was tiring, knowing the only way to get a good time was when she had to basically orchestrate his movements. He didn’t have intuition. He never seemed to let it sink into his head that she wanted more than just being groped and him mentioning his boner, and that sometimes she just wanted him to be nice to her without her having to ask.

 _He’s not a bad person,_ she thought, angry with herself for her demands. _He’ll always stop if I ask firmly. He does what I say, and he’ll go out on dates, suggest them as well._ He did try. Shouldn’t that be enough?

After all, she doubted romances were like what they showed on the television. And he was easy enough to be with. Comfortable, even. No rocking the boat here, even if he sometimes liked jumping off it into someone else's.

Getting dressed, she left Champ snoring like an engine, and strolled downstairs. She almost crashed into Wynonna, who only wore a long shirt and flimsy underwear.

“Jesus, Wynonna! Are you going to walk around like that all morning? Champ’s upstairs.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Wynonna said. “I’m hiding the parts that matter.” She then scowled. “Weren’t you supposed to be mad at him?”

“I, uh… I wanted him to come around to talk,” Waverly said weakly, and her sister smirked.

“Yeah. ‘Talk’,” she said, doing air quotes. “He’s handsome enough I guess, baby girl, but you really could choose better.”

“Don’t talk about him like that. He can’t help if he’s...”

“Mentally challenged?” Wynonna shrugged. “Just like how you’re vertically challenged, I suppose.”

“I am not,” Waverly said, puffing herself up and moving to the balls of her feet.

Wynonna laughed and ruffled her hair in an affectionate way. “Man, I missed this. Not the trigger-happy part, but you, you know? You’re all… chipper. Regular ray of sunshine and all that.” Her lips twisted slightly. “Far less screwed up than me. Glad someone got to be _almost_ normal in the Earp clan.” Waverly saw the hurt behind her sister’s eyes, heard a sliver of emotion behind the nonchalant words.

“We’re not normal.” Waverly thought about all the research she’d done. The preparing for a destiny related to her surname, her legacy. “And given the whole demon apocalypse thing happening at the moment, I’d say normal is very relative.”

“True. It’s – it’s bad out there.” She kept her hand on Waverly’s shoulder. “Real bad, Waves. Saw a lot of things I’d like to forget. Part of me was amazed to see Purgatory standing at all.” Something in Wynonna's expression told Waverly not to push it any further.

“Things stayed same as ever here, Wynonna.” They shared a rare, genuine smile, until Waverly broke it off by checking her watch. “Uh, I’ll see if I can wake Champ up, get him to drive me to work.” She bit her lip, considering the car ride with officer Haught, and her intention to escort Waverly. Something about that woman made Waverly uncomfortable, but she didn’t have words to express it.

It was unfair, since the officer was being nice to her. As nice as her job allowed, anyway.

“Why not Haught-stuff? It is her job. Babysitting the baby girl.” Wynonna reached for a bottle of local spirits, taking a sip straight from it. “I still need to test her out, see if she _can_ protect the shit out of you.”

“Probably, you don’t become a cop just by smiling and waving,” Waverly said. “Still, I’m sure she has better things to do than ferry me around.” She froze momentarily, remembering Nicole’s smile, as if there was a joke that Waverly didn’t quite get, and that casual but sincere promise to help her.

Whatever time of the day or night it was.

 _Thump._ Both girls jumped at the noise. Wynonna reached for Peacemaker, and Waverly headed for her pump-action shotgun.

“Does that sound friendly to you?” Waverly said, squinting through the window, trying to discern where the thumps were coming from.

“I don’t know, Waves, but I feel it in my bones that it ain’t good. Let’s greet them in Earp fashion, yeah?”

Waverly scoffed. “Gladly.” Both headed outside to investigate.

* * *

One zombie summoning witch dispatched later, and far too much blood than what the sisters had expected the witch to contain, they were dabbing themselves off in the bathroom, as a confused Champ asked them why there were dead bodies outside.

“I thought you said you cured the demons-getting-on-our-property thing,” Wynonna said, blanking out Champ’s whimpers from outside the bathroom. “Yet what a surprise: zombies at the door. And a witch screaming about the apocalypse.”

“Must be Monday,” Waverly said, checking to make sure the blood hadn’t dripped down to any awkward places. “I think I know why the zombies could, though. They don’t belong to heaven or hell – they’re just reanimated human corpses. So it doesn’t affect them. Like we saw, the witch was staying out of it.”

“I’m calling the police!” Champ said.

“Ah, shit.” Wynonna growled, heading out in just her bra and underwear. “Hey, shitnugget, no you don’t. This is Black Badge cleanup.” Wynonna continued to argue with Champ, and Waverly hastily grabbed some clothes for Wynonna, throwing them hard at her sister. It did sound as though Wynonna had failed to stop Champ completely – and ten minutes later, Black Badge showed up, alongside with a sheriff’s police-car. Waverly’s stomach squirmed when she saw Nicole step out and walk with Dolls towards them.

“Earp, come here,” was Dolls addressing Wynonna. Nicole immediately approached Waverly, her eyes furrowed in concern.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Nothing we can’t handle.”

“I had to admit,” Nicole said with a nervous chuckle, hand touching the back of her neck, “that I got scared there when I found out the Earp Homestead had bodies.”

“Well, it would be bad I suppose if I died so soon after being assigned to you. Failure of duty, officer,” Waverly said, grinning. Nicole matched the grin.

“Heh. Well, I need to take your statement, separate from Black Badge.” Nicole shot a flinty expression at Dolls, before brightening up again when facing Waverly.

Waverly, now suddenly hyper-aware of Nicole’s attention, found herself becoming stupid-awkward again. Nicole didn’t seem to notice anything, and interpreted her babbling with ease. The uniform really suited Nicole, Waverly thought. Even if the khaki pants and cotton shirt were super-formal, and the Stetson and padded PSD jacket overkill. The khakis were held in place by a sleek leather loop hole belt, which told Waverly that the jacket and pants added a lot more width than the slender body underneath. Waverly wouldn’t be able to pull off a look like that in a million years.

_Wonder what she’d look like in a dress?_

“Are you okay, Waverly? You seem upset,” Nicole said, and Waverly’s attention snapped up to Nicole’s face. Again, her mind iced out all thought.

“I, uh, erm, it’s just been quite a trying morning. Not everyday we get to fight zombies before we’ve even had breakfast.” She sprang out a toothy grin, concealing mild panic inside.

“Zombies...” Nicole became contemplative, before turning to Dolls, settling into parade rest, hands on her belt. “Hey. Is there anything that can protect properties from zombies?”

“We’re working on it,” Dolls said curtly. Waverly had the impression he wasn’t used to conveying humor. “You got work today, Waverly?”

“Yes...”

“You don’t anymore. We need your help on a suspected revenant.” Dolls turned curtly away from her to Nicole. “You take her to the precinct. Wynonna and I have something to run over first.”

“Oh we do, do we?” Wynonna said.

“Sorry,” Waverly mouthed to Champ, who still stood there, confused and a little frightened from the whole situation. “Meet you later.”

He nodded, and Waverly let herself be led out by Nicole, noting that the redhead seemed every much as annoyed by the orders as Waverly did.

“You know, just a few days ago,” Waverly said, as she clambered into officer Haught’s car, “my life was perfect. I had a nice, stable job, friends, a boyfriend, no trouble with demons at all. And it’s like the moment Wynonna gets back, suddenly zombie summoning witches are turning up at the door and no one seems to want to give me time out to process anything.”

“I can relate to that, partially,” Nicole said, glaring daggers at Dolls when he left the house, arguing with Wynonna about something. “I arrived in Purgatory about a month ago, and got promoted straight to deputy sheriff position. Had top marks at the academy.” Nicole smiled, looking momentarily proud. “Then Black Badge shows up and tells us to look the other way while they deal with the unexplained.” She started the car with a rather aggressive jerk of her keys in the ignition. “Argued for days to be included in the operations. And now, here’s the compromise.” She rumbled the car out of the front yard, hitting the road.

As Nicole focused on the road, Waverly found herself glancing often at the redhead. Absorbing sights she normally didn’t pay overt attention to when she regarded people. Like how those silver studs glinted in Nicole’s soft, delicate ears. The beauty mark under her right eyelid. Or the way her hair was braided perfectly in the French style, showing off that great face. The height difference was intriguing, too.

When Nicole caught her staring, Waverly’s stomach jolted, her heartrate increased, and she tore her eyes away, screaming on the inside.

_What the hell am I doing?_

“Is everything okay, Waverly?” Nicole sounded concerned. “Was it difficult, dealing with what happened there?”

 _“_ I’m-fine-everything’s-fine,” Waverly said in a rush, before adding, “Although I’m sorry you got dragged into this mess. What can we do for a peaceful life, right?”

There went the overly long eye contact again. “I can think of worse things than driving an Earp around town,” she said, expression turning from soft to confident. “Especially one so easy on the eyes.”

“That’s me. Easy,” Waverly said, before embarrassment launched itself across her cheeks. “I mean, easy to look at, I know.” Goddammnit, why were words so hard? Her brain kept screeching to an ungainly halt. And her heart continued to pound as if she’d been running a race.

“Are you hungry?” Nicole said, eyebrows shooting upwards. She was about one second away from a smile. Or a smirk. Waverly saw it in her face.

 _Hungry?_ At that moment, her stomach gave a ferocious growl. “No,” she squeaked, withering under Nicole’s amusement.

“I’ll stop by the café first. They don’t do good food in the station.” She ignored Waverly’s weak protests, and a few moments later, Nicole had handed Waverly a brown bag which contained a vegetable-based sandwich, and a drink that smelled similar to the scent that emanated off the officer. A hint of vanilla and sweetness. Waverly wolfed the food down, finishing the sandwich right as they pulled into the station. She stopped the car, and they both drank coffee comfortably for a moment.

“Thanks.” She couldn’t help but be surprised at how attentive the cop was. She felt pretty sure if it’d been Champ sitting next to her, he never would have thought to ask. Or consider how the morning had been for her.

Nicole opened the door, holding a hand for Waverly to take. Waverly grasped the cop’s firm palm, noting how warm it was, and the roughness and softness of it all at once, from calluses but well cared for skin. “I really appreciate this,” Waverly said shyly. Nicole nodded and led her inside the main department.

“It’s not a problem, Waverly. Though it was pretty funny to have you lie and then your stomach protest.”

“Yeah… can’t always control our body reactions, can we?” Waverly said.

Nicole laughed. “Yep. Sure can’t. When it sees something it likes, it’s sure as hell going to let you know.” Waverly’s mind went into overdrive, hardly daring to believe what she’d just heard, until Nicole added, “It’s how I ended up getting an addiction to vanilla dip donuts. And I can’t really handle gluten, so...”

“You poor thing,” Waverly said, breathing silent relief. Yes. Of course the officer wouldn’t be talking about anything else. “You mean you can’t eat your favorite food anymore?”

“Oh, I sneak in a few every week. My body hates me for it.”

They continued conversing, the conversation easy, flowing, and Waverly found herself really absorbing what Nicole said. Realizing she wanted to get to know the redhead better. That compared to Chrissy and Steph, her two friends, Nicole had something really genuine about her – a self-assurance the others didn’t have.

“Yeah, my sister can practically thread a needle with a bullet,” Waverly said, after Nicole had asked a few careful questions about Wynonna.

“It’s quite the gun,” Nicole said. “I got to see it in action. Your sister tagged along for a midnight burglary, where the perpetrators turned out to be a couple of revenants.”

“She mentioned about that. Wouldn’t that be cool, you and her going on missions together? I’d say you might be able to keep her on the straight and narrow, but she’s not the easiest…”

“You’re telling me.” Nicole smiled gently. “As long as she doesn’t end up shooting me, I guess I can handle her. I’ve a question, though. It is only her that can wield the gun? How does it work, exactly?”

“It’s a special gun.” Duh, obviously. “The Earp Heirs are able to wield it. I can as well.” _In theory._ She’d never actually touched it. “It makes sure the demons we dispatch actually stay dispatched. You can’t kill them otherwise.”

“And there’s… how many of these revenants, again?”

“Seventy-seven. Give or take a seven.” Waverly leaned over Nicole’s shoulder, examining the papers the redhead was sorting into a pile by alphabetical order. “What’s all this?”

Nicole’s shoulder lightly brushed against Waverly’s arm as she propped her elbow on the chair, examining Waverly. “Nothing demonic, if that’s what you’re wondering. Nedley’s files are in disarray, and we’re trying to get everything neater. We’re just meant to stick to the non-demonic cases.”

“It’s still important,” Waverly said, not pulling away from Nicole’s touch. “God, I wish that was all I had to handle.”

“Not for me. I can think of a few other things I’d like to handle,” Nicole said. She paused, before adding, “I don’t think Black Badge and the department can stay separate, anyway. Seems more of our problems are becoming demonic in origin.”

For a moment, Waverly thought Nicole was intending to say something else entirely. “You don’t feel like you’re getting enough action?”

Nicole briefly sucked in her bottom lip, and her smile grew almost impish. “Sometimes you just want to have the difficult cases, you know? Make a difference.”

“I – uh, yes. Difficult.” Waverly trailed off into silence. “We can swap, if you want. You can get the zombie summoning witches, I’ll get the papers.”

“Gladly. Added bonus of being topped up with drinks whenever you need it.”

Waverly stared into Nicole’s eyes, and the way they caught the light, turning them into molten pools of gold. She became acutely aware of their closeness, of the way Nicole leaned, touching Waverly’s arm. The comments all whirled together in Waverly’s mind, along with everything she’d experienced with Nicole earlier, and in their first meeting, with the oddly charged atmosphere. Waverly’s analytical mind kicked into overdrive, trying to dissect the feeling.

 _She’s gay, isn’t she?_ Not that Waverly planned to outright ask or anything, but it was the only thing that made sense. _That_ was why Waverly felt so… uncomfortable. Because a woman was flirting and had a particular energy about her, and Waverly was feeling… unbalanced, somehow. Like she was aware, deep inside, that there was something a little different in their interactions.

 _I could be mistaken. Women do flirt as friends. And what do I know about this? I’ve never been hit on by a girl. Though I’m getting… vibes._ Yes. Nicole had that confidence about her. Those smiles definitely suggested Nicole liked what she saw, because Waverly was used to smiles like that from guys, too. If perhaps Nicole was more respectful about it.

Flattering as it was to be considered attractive by a girl, Waverly didn’t want to give Nicole the wrong idea. Neither did she want to voice her suspicions, _just_ in case she was overthinking and over-assuming. After all, maybe Nicole was just touchy-feely like Waverly was. People could be touchy-feely, and friendly-flirty. Nothing weird about that at all. But what that effectively meant was that Waverly stiffened up like a board, and never quite relaxed again.

Nicole, perhaps sensing the change in demeanor, drew away from Waverly. “I mean it about the difficult cases. I understand that normal things have to be done as well, but… we shouldn’t be working separate. We’re all stuck in Purgatory together. Your demons are our demons.”

“I don’t think you quite have the burden of the Earp name to live up to. I also hope you never do,” Waverly said, plastering on positivity. “It already has the oldest Heir drinking since she was what, fourteen, and here I am, working in Shorty’s, acting like my life is normal when I have a billboard at home full of revenants.” Speaking of revenants, she wondered if Dolls had already gotten around to copying all the information she had on offer.

Something flickered in Nicole’s eyes, but whatever had taken her, was gone by the time Waverly registered it. However, the woman had now become decidedly cooler in her attitude. “I don’t think the Earps have an exclusive monopoly on demons. We all have them.” She rubbed the back of her neck.

Thankfully, Waverly was spared having to reply to this when Dolls and Doc entered the main room.

“Miss Haught,” Doc said, tilting the front of his hat respectfully. “I believe we’re here to take the young lady off your hands.”

“By all means,” Nicole said, and her expression became chillier still.

“Thanks for taking me in,” Waverly said, getting up to follow Doc out. Nicole smiled tightly.

“No problem, Earp. I’ll see you later.”

 _Later._ Waverly could think of worse things to see later. But she figured she should step carefully around the officer from now on. Just in case she ended up giving Nicole the wrong impression about things.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A job out with Wynonna takes an interesting turn...

The days dragged on. Nicole continued giving Waverly her lifts, though sometimes she was able to get her boyfriend to do the same, or hitch with Dolls and Wynonna. Shae messaged a little less, and Nicole spotted Lucado a couple more times ducking into the office, though she rarely bothered exchanging words with the normal sheriffs of the department.

Waverly really was a good person, Nicole decided. She had odd bouts of confidence and low self-esteem all at once. She’d chatter about her research, flap her arms excitedly when getting into topics about ancient dead languages, or that one course she studied online, but then feel the need to hang around “popular” people for her self-image, and act in a way people expected, and, well… stay with that waste of space she called a boyfriend.

Not that Nicole was jealous or anything. Just observant. Didn’t take a genius to notice some of the interactions not always panning out decent. The occasional escape from a crushing hug by Waverly, the utter refusal to talk about her boyfriend when with Nicole.

Just the little things.

She received small glimpses over time of the revenants the Earps fought, though there was a lingering frustration of being left on the other side of the glass, being kept out of important matters. Lucado in particular had a wonderful, frosty glare reserved for nosy cops who asked a few too many questions. Probably for the best Nicole kept it easy. Revenants were danger. Revenants meant risking more than just her life.

Though it’d been a while since she’d had an... attack. A while in that she felt cocky and confident enough to dump herself straight on the lines of Purgatory. Though maybe she danced a little too close to the devil with that choice. _I’ll be fine,_ she told herself. Not completely convinced of her own words. _It’s under control. I’m responsible._

Speaking of responsibility, someone had to do the nightshift. Lonnie called in sick that Friday, and it should have been his role. Since they didn’t exactly have a whole lot of staff, Nicole found her shift hours doubled. She sat at her desk, tired and irritated, kept alive by department black coffee. The cream in the fridge was expired, and she didn’t like black coffee, but she didn’t plan to sleep on duty. Plus, she needed to be awake to escort Waverly Earp from the homestead to Shorty’s some six hours later.

All nighters. Always hell to get through.

She flicked through a case file bothering her for the past few days, staring at the gruesome crime scene photos, and the post-mortem op observations. All she was probably doing was cooking up nightmare fuel, but she felt there was some connection missing. Something major. Her victims were one week apart in their deaths, and Nicole couldn’t shake off the feeling that there might be a third one joining the heap tonight. But what was the link? How could she possibly explain what had been dismissed as two separate incidents?

Absently, she unbuttoned the top of her uniform, so she could start rubbing her collarbone. Several sharp raps yanked her attention to the office entrance, where she saw Wynonna Earp, stretched out against the door, clutching a large bottle of whiskey in her other hand.

“Do you ever sleep, Haught? Because I could’ve sworn you were awake early morning today, and you still seem to be awake now.”

“We got illness,” Nicole replied, deciding not to slide her documents away. “So someone needs to stay in. And everyone else had already gone home, and Nedley was up one night, two days in a row, so...”

“Shit. They really understaff you, huh. No resting wicked, Haught?”

Nicole squinted. “Isn’t it ‘no rest for the wicked?’”

“I said that, right?” replied Wynonna, before swaggering in, taking a swig of her bottle. “What you doing?”

“What are _you_ doing?” Nicole shot back, not entirely pleased to have someone drinking alcohol in her office. Nedley might kill her if he came in next morning and smelled it. “I thought you liked to get the hell out of dodge in the evenings.”

“I do, but Black Badge runs twenty-four-seven. And… just… waiting for my boss to get back,” Wynonna said. “Might be dead though, so...” Something flickered across her eyes, dark and wounded and haunted, before she smiled and shrugged. “No big deal.”

 _Oh._ Nicole’s expression softened. “What happened?”

“Something. He needed to leave Purgatory, cross the line to retrieve some fancy thing.” Wynonna placed her bottle on Nicole’s desk, and the strong, pungent smell of spiced whiskey filled Nicole’s nostrils. 

“Should you be telling me this?”

“Probably not. But to shit with secrets. You’re in the same mess as us, right?”

Nicole found herself nodding, earlier caution defrosting. “Sure am. Though like Nedley says – someone has to look after the ordinary people as well.” With only one chair in the office, Nicole couldn’t exactly draw her guest up something, but Wynonna plonked herself on the desk, inches away from the case report.

It intrigued her on a level, to remember how wild-child Wynonna was when she first joined the Division, but within a few weeks, the woman already feared something happening to her boss. _Bosses._ “Is it just Dolls who is gone, or…?”

“Dolls and Doc.” This prompted a huge gulp of drink from Wynonna, her blue eyes scrunched. “Always need backup, right? And I’m the shooter, the rev-killer. Can’t take me.” She patted her long-barreled Colt .45, tucked into the leg of her black boot. “What you working on?”

Sensing Wynonna needed a distraction, that she was fishing for company just to tear her mind from the awful reality that that was a possibility neither of her buddies were coming back, Nicole yielded her documents. “Two deaths. They say unrelated – different kills, different women with no connections to one another, but there’s something bugging me ‘bout the whole thing.”

“Hot damn,” Wynonna said, eyes agape at the photos on display. “That’s some twisted fuckery, right there.”

“Yep.” Nicole arched one eyebrow. “Do you know the victims?”

Wynonna placed her bottle on the table, and examined the two names on offer. “Oh. Chastity Evans and Bree Turner. Sure. Purg High. Same year as me.” The casual way she said the names suggested no love lost. Nicole didn’t know a whole lot about the elder Earp, aside from the fact where Waverly was talked about like the town darling, Wynonna was treated like a town pariah. A person people universally looked down upon. Two complete opposites: town darling and town hellion.

 _Same school._ One connection, at least. Though she also suspected that virtually everyone in Purgatory had attended Purg High, so that was a tenuous link at best. Same year as Wynonna…? “Bree is two years older. How is she in the same year as you?”

“Yeah, well, she was held back like two years,” Wynonna said. “Not the smartest blonde in the cookie jar.”

Nicole scribbled down Wynonna’s statement, brain churning. The connection… there _had_ to be one. “Anything else you can tell me?”

“They hated me, but who doesn’t? And they were still virgins when I left, which is a miracle this day and age, if you ask me. We’ve got more strip clubs here than cafés. But guess you get small town prudes in small towns.”

 _Virgins._ Nicole bit her lower lip, considering. Both women had been listed as single. One living with her family, the other on her own. It seemed like such an odd connection, but Nicole wasn’t in the habit of ignoring things, no matter how odd they seemed. “Was there… anyone else in your year that might be considered a virgin?”

Wynonna screwed up her face in deep thought. “In my year? God, let me think… probably Verity… Verity something. Surname starts with an F. You think someone’s killing virgins from my year?” Wynonna chuckled. “That sounds pretty batshit. They’d hardly be virgins now, it’s been like ten years.”

“At this point, I can’t rule out anything,” Nicole said, now tapping into computer records for Purgatory residents. Verity couldn’t be a common name. Sure enough, she pulled up three Veritys, and only one that matched Wynonna’s age. A potential victim? Nicole glanced at the dead women in her document. Bree, killed two weeks ago. Bludgeoned. Chastity, one week ago. Bloody patterns carved into her flesh. Seven days apart. “I think there’s going to be a third victim tonight, but I couldn’t explain why. Just...” _Ritualistic._ Nicole’s heart iced over. Ritual kills. Cults.

Subconsciously, she reached past her collarbone to the flesh of her left shoulder, fingertips pressing against the hard ridges of skin there.

“Shit,” Wynonna said softly, her black nailed fingers trailing over the documents. “That some good instincts you got if you saw this.”

Nicole scraped her chair back. She’d seen nothing. Wynonna had laced the dots together, and she felt annoyed at herself for not seeing it sooner. “I need to check in where she lives. I might be wrong...”

“I’m coming,” Wynonna said, sliding off the desk. “Former juvie and a law woman? It’s like it was all arranged on a cosmic level.”

Nicole eyed Wynonna with slight distaste, but also knew that as unconventional as the Black Badge woman was, she knew her way around a gun and fist. And cops preferred having a partner pair to fall back on. Especially in this day and age. “Alright, Wynonna. Don’t take the drink.”

“Yes, officer.” Wynonna gave a mocking bow. “I’m comin’ back for it, though.”

* * *

Outside Verity’s house, Nicole immediately felt something _off._ Like the air was tainted with evil, somehow, and Wynonna evidently felt the same thing.

“No light,” Wynonna said. “But window is ajar.” The eldest Earp sister licked her lips. “I’m going in.”

“Wynonna, wait –” Nicole began, but she’d already hopped out the car, tugging out her gun and pushing her hand against the door. It swung open, and the brunette vanished.

Well. That went swimmingly. Nicole hastened after the brunette, cursing inwardly, hoping she wasn’t just about to walk into a shitshow. She’d already heard about Wynonna shooting off a gun in the middle of a club to get a revenant, causing a screaming riot a few days back. Gun ready, pressing her back for cover at every opportunity, Nicole entered and took point.

She barely managed to avoid slipping over blood as she crossed swiftly into the kitchen, scouting out each room and lighting her way through. Leave no surprises. Hope Wynonna wasn’t royally screwing up. The blood belonged to a small terrier, stabbed violently in a way that made her stomach clench. Breathing through her nose, adrenaline starting to pulse, Nicole ventured from the kitchen to the living room. Downstairs bathroom. Nothing hidden, no potential ambushers lying in wait to leap at her from behind, only leaving upstairs. Just as she braced her feet on the bottom step, she heard gunshots, and unnatural, distorted wailing.

Followed by Wynonna’s voice. “Chad? What in hell?”

Abandoning all caution, Nicole sprinted up the stairs, just in time to see Wynonna go flying out of a room and slam into the wall, and two _creatures,_ because they didn’t move anything like humans, hurtled out of the room and set themselves upon the Earp. Wynonna fought back with ferocity, matching their supernatural speed, trying to get one of them down long enough to aim Peacemaker at them. Nicole trained her gun, waiting for the shot – spotted it, and pumped three bullets into the back of the biggest creature.

It stopped its assault on Wynonna, noticing Nicole for the first time, and immediately lumbered for her, huge, brown, scaly arms thrust forward. Nicole’s bullets did nothing to halt the monster, and she yelped, beating a hasty retreat down the stairs, trying to buy Wynonna time with just one assailant. The beast-man crashed down the stairs after Nicole, moving at such a terrifying pace that Nicole knew she couldn’t outrun it. Couldn’t shoot, couldn’t outrun.

Only delay. She put as many obstacles in the thing’s way as possible. Sofa. Table, knocking the bookcase down. She did everything her training had ever taught her, but the beast caught up.

 _Looks stronger, can’t let it hit…_ She dodged one blow, attempting a quick arm and back twist to its overextended grab, but even with the _crack_ of bone, the thing wrested itself out of her armbar, and sent her flying. Break rolling with her shoulder as best as able, though her body sang with pain, she darted sideways just in time to avoid an entire _sofa_ being thrown at her.

Scrambling to the kitchen, Nicole grabbed the chef’s knife she’d eyed previously. Take in the environment. Use any resource available. The scaly man-monster roared, eyes glowing a shocking red in the light of the kitchen, and blurred towards her. At the same time he reached her, she sank the blade into the softer flesh at the neck, not trusting a result with that broad chest of his. Again, the creature seemed to shrug off the blow, not dead from what should have been a straight severing of the major arteries and windpipe, and slammed Nicole against a linoleum wall.

 _No…_ she saw her death in this monster’s eyes. The adrenaline in her blood boiled, and pain dimmed. The monster grasped her neck, and she knew it’d have enough strength to break it. “No!” Nicole screamed, scrabbling at the arm in front of her. But the no wasn’t for the monster, or for her life.

 _Please… no..._ _not again…_ She felt it – the red blurring her vision, dripping into her mind, filling her insides with wrathful, hateful fury. She hated it. She wanted it.

Her no became a choked snarling, and the man-monster’s red eyes widened. Noises distorted, until all she heard was the incessant thump of her heart, and inhaled the hot, rancid breath of her enemy. Rage swirled like a cold, relentless storm, sucking everything out of reason, of thought.

Screams. Cursing. Sounds of crashing, breaking, and a lack of pressure on her back, her neck. Red mist obscured her brain, her eyes, her soul, and in moments when she swam into awareness, the metallic smell of blood spat her right back out of it. Back into the red blizzard of her mind. Lust for the kill. _Craving_ the suffering.

“Officer? _Officer?_ _Nicole!_ ”

The words came from far away, as if beyond a mirror. Growling, Nicole stopped shredding the body, wondering who dared interrupt her. Who _dared_ speak in her presence.

“Nicole!”

Wait. She recognized that voice. _Wynonna?_

Nicole snapped into reality, to find herself crouched over the monster, blood splattered over it and her hands, her uniform, her face. Dazed, she turned to face Wynonna, who pointed Peacemaker directly at her.

The gun glowed yellow at the tip.

“What the fuck are you?” Wynonna said, voice trembling, but her hand steady.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wynonna has questions. Nicole isn't sure if she can answer all of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay. Not been a great time for me, but I'm looking to get back on track again. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

_What the fuck are you?_

Good question. Not really an easy one to answer.

Nicole let out a whimper, seeing how dark the blood was on her hands, feeling its cloying texture on her cheeks, how it stuck her uniform to her chest. Had she really enjoyed this?

The rage and wrath within fizzled away, leaving her in a kind of shocked, numb fugue.

 _It happened again._ Jesus, she’d been lying to herself for even thinking for a second it was gone.

“No...” she shrank away from the dismembered creature, desperately trying to wipe off some of the blood on the carpet. “Oh my god, I am so sorry.” Not for the corpse, but for Wynonna, who witnessed it, shattering whatever image she might have held of Nicole.

It happened. It happened again. Fuck. She still tasted the darkness in the back of her throat, felt it throbbing in her spine. So horrible. So tempting.

Of course it hadn’t gone. Just because several years had passed without anything happening…

“What...” Wynonna said, still holding the gun, through the yellow-orange glow diminished. The Earp stared at her gun in confusion. “Why isn’t it glowing now?”

Trembling, Nicole closed her eyes, trying to knit her thoughts together, to fight down the nausea that threatened to turn up all her stomach contents. When she opened her eyes again, she saw that Wynonna had finally lowered the gun, instead pointing it at the pile of body parts. It lit up that dark yellow, and she shot it off, causing the parts to melt into a fiery puddle. Shame burned strong in Nicole, and her tongue tied itself into knots rather than come up with a decent answer.

How exactly _could_ she explain this to a demon hunter?

Wynonna muttered something under her breath. “I don’t understand.” The gun swiveled to Nicole again. Blank. “You’re not a revenant. I know that much. And demons can’t enter the homestead, and you were able to. So, what… what am I dealing with, here?”

Staring into Wynonna’s hard blue eyes, Nicole swallowed the bile in her throat. After some effort, she untwisted her tongue. “I’m human. I swear it, Wynonna.”

“Sure ‘bout that?” Wynonna remained a cautious distance, expression wild, now pointing at the bloodied spot where the body lay. Her voice went low, almost a hiss. “Because you tore that thing apart like it was made of damn paper. Not many humans can make confetti out of demons, Haught.”

Out of all the things Nicole expected to happen, it was to explain to the Earp something she’d never admitted to anyone else. It was just… part of her existence. Like breathing, apparently. She wiped at her face, taking deep breaths, trying to keep her emotions under control. Trying not to think about all the blood, the stains. The _delight._ How could she explain to Wynonna, when she still didn’t fully understand herself? “Before we go into this, I need to ask – did you find Verity?”

The Earp girl’s scowl confirmed the worst for Nicole. “I did. She… she’s not coming back from that one. Chris killed her. Chris… I remember him. He was a creep. Couldn’t get any of the girls to sleep with him in my year. Apparently he was a rev-head, too.”

Sighing, Nicole slumped against the wall. “I was too late. I was too slow to figure it out.” _And if I’d gone by myself…_

“Not your fault,” Wynonna said. “You figured out faster than anyone else. And, well...” She smiled darkly. “It won’t be happening again. He’s somewhere hotter, and he’s not coming back. Now. Who are you?”

The silence between them stretched.

“It’s my job to kill demons, Haught,” Wynonna said softly. “I gotta ask.” The whites of her knuckles showed as she clutched the gun. Ready to spin it back on Nicole again.

 _Who am I_ “I’m not a demon. I’m...” Nicole got up unsteadily, keeping her movements slow so that Wynonna wouldn’t react bad. The woman was on edge. Best not to fling her over it. Nicole ached all over, but that was nothing compared to the guy who attacked her. Heading to the sink, she began scrubbing down her arms, everything she could. She hated the thought of spilling her secrets, but to someone like Wynonna... she deserved to have a small part of it. “Have you ever heard of the Cult of Bulshar?”

“The crazies who unleashed the apocalypse? Might have,” Wynonna said, now walking until she leaned against the sink next to Nicole. The mark of trust unwound some of the tension in Nicole’s neck and shoulders. A part of her had been wondering whether the Earp woman intended to kill her. If it was deserved. “I was out there in the world when it all went to hell. Really cut short my trip around Europe.”

Nicole smiled in spite of herself. “I… they… well, you know they’re demon worshippers. You know I guess that there were a few cults dedicated to him, all about worshipping or raising their overlord or whatever?”

“Sure.”

“I was, uh, my parents were in the cult. And they had plans for me. Think I was about seven.”

“Plans? What kind of plans?”

“The sacrificing kind.” Nicole kept the details scant. Wynonna didn’t need to know the gamut of emotions and terror the experience gave her, and her parent’s role in the matter. No one did. “They… did something to try and get a demon to take me over. It didn’t work.”

Wynonna’s eyes almost popped out of her head, and she let out an involuntary hiss. “They tried putting a demon in a _child_? Jesus, and I thought the movies with demon children were scary enough…”

 _Yes, to a child._ A pure soul was a feast to a demon. Because they didn’t get those kind of souls in hell.

The blood didn’t seem to wash out. Nicole scrubbed at her skin until it was raw, but she still thought she saw stains. Or maybe it was just her red, flushed hands. “Far as I know, they botched the ritual, somehow. The demon I was meant to, uh, _host,_ I guess, didn’t have a chance to manifest. I’ve never let myself stay in one place long enough to have this, well, tested, I guess, but… if I’m under extreme stress, sometimes… it happens. Hasn’t happened for years, now. Thought maybe it was gone. But I’m human.” The last words came out more like a plea for Wynonna to understand. Although she hadn’t told Wynonna about the other thing. The impulses the blood gave. The voice she sometimes heard at night, making her think the demon wasn’t _quite_ out of her. “I’m still me. I’ve always felt like me.” _Except sometimes._

Wynonna remained silent a moment, processing the information. “Were you in control when you were ripping that revenant a new one?”

Nicole shook her head. “Right until I knew it would break my neck, I was in control. After that, well…”

“Hmm.” Wynonna twirled Peacemaker by the trigger ring with her finger. Then she pointed the gun at Nicole again, who tensed. The gun remained blank and silver, and Wynonna nodded, sighing, before tucking Peacemaker down her boot. “My gut’s tellin’ me to keep you alive, Haught. You went out of your way to try save this girl. I’ve seen a lot of demons – a lot of shit out there, you understand me? But you – whatever you are – I don’t think you’re an enemy.” She laid a hand on Nicole’s shoulder.

“I’m not,” Nicole replied. “I just want to help.”

“I know.” Wynonna glanced to the ceiling, lips pursed. “But can I trust you with… protecting my baby sister?”

A fair question. “You can. That’s all I want to do, Wynonna. Do my job. Protect people. Be here because I can handle it.”

Wynonna held Nicole’s gaze for a long time. Searching for something in her eyes. Then she nodded, as if satisfied with what she saw. “You better. Wouldn’t want to get on the bad side of you for sure.” She grinned, and Nicole found herself grinning, too, relief speckling inside like light upon water.

“I wouldn’t get on the bad side of you, either. I saw how you fought.”

“The joys of the Earp curse,” Wynonna replied sardonically.

“I need to call this all in.” Nicole took herself away from the sink, going up to inspect Verity’s body for herself, just to make absolutely sure there was no hope, though she trusted Wynonna on that part. She might be unprofessional, crass, nursing a partially ruined liver and an uncanny ability to not slur speech despite the frightening amount of alcohol she consumed – but she knew her shit.

Sometimes you needed more than a professional to get the job done. Nicole appreciated that, even if it rankled at her to have someone waltz in without any sense of protocol or training. Verity was cold, with some kind of half-finished bloody tattoo on her body, which Wynonna must have interrupted. A part of Nicole couldn’t help but think – if Wynonna had maybe approached her an hour earlier, if Nicole had spent harder trying to connect the dots…

But what was done, was done.

Even though Wynonna had decided Nicole wasn’t a danger, when Nicole called it in, she felt the older Earp’s gaze on her the whole while. Though Wynonna appeared to accept on the surface, Nicole knew she’d be on the Earp’s watchlist.

Also, Nicole hadn’t exactly explained the whole truth about what had happened to her.

And if possible, she never planned to, either.

* * *

By the time Nicole was supposed to pick up Waverly to escort her to Shorty’s, Nicole was one blink away from passing out on the spot. She’d since changed out of her drenched uniform into a new set, and her old clothes were too torn, too bloodied for fixing, so she was due to have a new uniform set ordered in. Even with washing off the dirt, the blood, Nicole still felt dirty, somehow. She barely managed to pull the car beside the homestead without slumping forward and closing her eyes for perhaps a few seconds too long.

“Let’s make some things clear,” Wynonna said, seeming far more focused and alert than Nicole at that moment in time. “You will do everything in your power to protect my sister, right?”

“Of course. It’s my job and duty. I always do my duty.” Nicole rubbed at her eyes, suppressing a yawn.

“Good. You keep… whatever happened under control. I’m trusting you with her. Don’t make me regret it.” Wynonna’s gaze was hard. “You harm her in any way… I won’t hesitate.”

Nicole knew precisely what she meant. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Giving Nicole a sharp jab to the shoulder, Wynonna smirked, before she tumbled out of the car and went inside, emerging later with one sister and some fruit. Nicole, already battling consciousness, managed to lift her weary lips into a smile upon spotting Waverly, and her soul lightened considerably when Waverly returned it. Self-consciously, she checked her freshly changed uniform, in case somehow a fleck of blood had advanced onto it.

She really didn’t want Waverly to know. But at the same time, having it confirmed for certain that her corruption still remained, even after years of inactivity… it made Nicole begin to question just exactly what she was doing here.

 _If it’s not gone, then there’s nothing stopping it from coming back again._ She swallowed the lump in her throat. _I’ll need to monitor myself._ Tiredness crept within, hitting her with such ferocity that she needed to fight to stay awake, to focus.

Whatever the two sisters talked about, it stopped when Waverly opened the car door. Wynonna suppressed a yawn, giving one brief hand raise to them before entering the homestead.

“Hey,” Nicole said, hating what she was about to say, but knew it had to be done. “Um… maybe you should get a taxi, or call your boyfriend, rather than come with me.”

Waverly’s broad smile dipped. “Hmm? Why?”

“I’m very, very tired, and I’m worried I might cause an accident. It’s hitting me now, and I don’t want… I don’t want to crash us and hurt you.”

“Okay. So I’ll get out the car, get a lift, and let you crash all by yourself,” Waverly said. “Genius plan. Let me drive. You won’t arrest me for that, will you?”

Nicole barely had the energy to protest. They switched sides. Nicole wasn’t technically supposed to let a non-cop drive her vehicle – especially the person she was supposed to be guarding. But again, Nicole didn’t intend to crash the vehicle and kill them both, either. She barely made it back to the Earp homestead without faceplanting something. “My god, Nicole, you look shattered,” Waverly then said, now able to examine her more intently. “What happened last night? You were up all that time?”

“A lot happened,” Nicole said, jaw cracking from the yawn she pulled. “Your sister can fill in some blanks.”

“I want you to,” Waverly said, before backing the car out of the homestead, giving a cheery wave to Wynonna.

Personally, Nicole didn’t want to share any details like that. Her job, and the horrors she encountered – they weren’t for civilians to hear. Not without giving them nightmares. But then again, Waverly was an Earp. And her sister was Wynonna. And they probably dealt with demons on a far more regular basis than any one person had a right to. She told Waverly briefly about her double shift, Wynonna’s interruption, their visit to Verity’s house. She didn’t go into details about the fight, just that they had one. She also didn’t mention the loss of control, and Wynonna pointing a glowing yellow gun at her, or all the blood she needed to wash off. By the time she finished the recount, Waverly had already stopped them just outside Shorty’s.

“That’s awful,” Waverly said, stretching out a hand and resting it on top of Nicole’s knuckles. Nicole’s heart did an involuntary lurch from the simple, thoughtless gesture. “You can’t have more work to do, right?”

“I’ve… I’ve already clocked off,” Nicole said, unable to stop another shuddering yawn, and the blink of moisture in her eyes. She wanted Waverly to keep that hand on her knuckles for as long as possible, and risked piling another hand on top. Effectively sandwiching Waverly’s fingers. “I just need to return the car, and I can crash.”

Waverly looked into Nicole’s eyes for a moment. She didn’t take her hand away, and the warmth, the contact was so soothing, so nice… Nicole felt tempted just to sink into sleep right then, with the memory of this woman’s touch upon her.

Except, of course, that would be unprofessional.

“I’m going to drive you to the station,” Waverly said, now pulling away from Nicole, who immediately felt that loss, that rapid change from warm to cold. “Then we’re getting a taxi to your place.” Waverly rapidly texted something to Gus, which Nicole remembered as being some important, aunt/mother figure in Waverly’s life.

Concerned of being a burden, Nicole said, “Don’t worry about it, Waverly. I can get myself to the station if needed, it’s just a straight line, and I don’t live so far...”

Waverly ignored her, now driving towards the sheriff department. “Oh, so it’s okay to keep me safe, but not yourself? No way.” She glared at Nicole. “Look, Nicole. You’ve been escorting me all this time. Every day you can, no matter what’s happening in your job. You’ve never been late. You make time for me when Black Badge wants me, and you pay attention when you think I might be hungry. I think it’s about time someone made sure _you_ got home alright, okay?” She smiled. “I might be an Earp, but you’re no less important.”

Nicole felt too tired, too stupid to argue with this logic. And maybe just a little bit happy at the words. “Thanks, Waves,” she drawled, voice cracking, eyes gluing shut. “That’s nice of you to say...”

A moment later, Waverly was shaking Nicole awake to get out of the car. A taxi waited. “Mm. Sorry.” Nicole leaned on Waverly for support. Even with their height difference, she was slouched enough to be propped by the little frame, and made no complaint, no sound as she was shunted into the back seat of the taxi.

 _I should… I should pay,_ Nicole thought. _This isn’t right. I have responsibilities, and I’m failing them…_

Waverly didn’t give her a chance to pay. She shoved away Nicole’s attempt to thrust money at the taxi driver, and they got out by Nicole’s little house. Fumbling for keys, Nicole found them and twisted the main key in the lock.

“You’ll be alright from here?” Waverly had her arms folded, staring at Nicole with an unfathomable expression upon her face.

“Yes. Thank you. And I’m sorry,” Nicole said, quickly giving the Earp a goodbye embrace. The normal, natural thing to do. Waverly stiffened up from the touch, but relaxed into it, hugging back before Nicole could regret her decision and pull away. “I’ll have to make up for the inconvenience next time.”

Letting out a derisive snort, Waverly disengaged herself from the hug. “Oh, please. This isn’t an inconvenience. You’ve had a horrible night, Nicole. Then you turn up at my house half-dead with my sister, still determined to drive me. This is no trouble at all.”

Nicole managed a radiant smile, throwing another goodbye in Waverly’s direction, before closing the door. She checked through the window to make sure Waverly got back in the taxi, one hand pressed against the glass, watching until the Earp vanished from sight.

The moment she did, the smile dropped from Nicole like a lead ball smacking the ground. Exhaustion bit back into her, bone deep, weighing down her soul. And then there were the memories, that _horrible night_ as Waverly had put it. The awful memories, filled with red, with the smoky crackle of cooked skin, of life leaking in her fingers. Leaking out of the lines in her neck and back and wrists.

Ripping off her shirt, she shoved it in the washing machine, along with the rest of her clothes, even though they were clean, and overloaded the detergent and softener drawers.

She showered once more before crawling into bed, curling up under the covers, squinting at the sleeping pills on the desk under her bright red lamp. She _definitely_ didn’t need those this time. Calamity Jane jumped into bed next to her, purring like an engine, settling into the crook at the back of her curled legs.

Sleep gunned for her once more. In all the dreams, the half-remembered images that made her limbs twitch, there was at least one silver lining to it all. A smile like the sun coming up.

Light glinting in honey-brown hair. The soft touch of a soft hand, and concern forming a cocoon around Nicole.

Nicole was always the one who appeared to have her shit together. She was the one people approached when they needed help, the one prepared to take responsibility when no one else did.

Though a part of her felt ashamed to place additional burden upon Waverly, when she promised not to, in all honesty, it felt _damn_ good to be taken care of for once.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is a story I've been stewing on for a while. (Inspired by some of the AMAZING writers on this site.) Kept finding a whole lot of excuses not to post it, like it wasn't long enough, oh I needed a beta reader, oh it's way too slow burn and people will get annoyed at the constant excuses to keep them apart... that kind of thing. But have now written enough to feel that if there's no inspiration for weeks and weeks, at least there'll be content for a while. :p


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